


Life Never Changes

by BeauJakson



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Crossover, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-05-04 09:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14590152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeauJakson/pseuds/BeauJakson
Summary: The year is 2077, and America is in the grip of war. Chinese forces have only recently been expelled from an occupation effort in Alaska, and the Gobi Conflict is a decade old but still fresh in everyone's minds.For Max Caulfield, though, this is all a distant worry. She's simply looking forward to spending more time with Dad, who was recently honorably discharged from the Army. School may have just started a month ago, but her junior year is going to be a great one, and life in Sanctuary Hills just couldn't be better. Well, maybe if she finally plucked up the courage to contact her friend from back in Oregon. But for now, life in Concord, Massachusetts is just plain perfect.But as Max Caulfield is about to find out, even if you don't pay attention to it, war will always come knocking.Because war...war never changes....





	1. Chapter 1

__

_Maxine,_

_You were born today. Only minutes ago, I held you in my arms for the first time, and only minutes ago, I learned just how intense the love of a father can be towards his baby girl. I'll admit, I wasn't sold on fatherhood at first, but when I looked at you, small and defenseless, depending on your mother and I to take care of you.... I wish I could say I'll never let anything hurt you. I wish I could provide that kind of safety, promise such security. But the frightening truth is, I can't. And I'm so sorry that the miracle of life, the first day of your existence in this world has to fall amidst the worst conflict mankind has seen in decades._

_We're at war. China, Russia, everyone just wants to hurt everyone else. And your father is one of the soldiers, a man sent to hurt others, to do bad things to people in the name of the United States of America. I don't always like what I do, but I do it for you. I do it because I hope and pray that it's enough to keep you safe._

_But I don't believe that it is._

_I don't believe the world will still be there for you when you grow up. And I only hope that I can prepare you for it. Because there will always be those that want what others have and are willing to kill to take it. There will always be those who value themselves above all else. And that will never change._

_War will never change._

_…..._

_"I don't want to set the worrrrrld ooooon fiiiirrre.... IIIII just want to staaaaart...a flame in yooouuur heaaaart...."_

 

Ugh, not this song again. Mom couldn't get enough of the Ink Spots and their “classic hit”, often cranking up the volume while she put together breakfast on Saturday mornings. Max much preferred the more Bluesier sounds like Elvis Presley or Johnny Cash, though she had taken to listening to the Beatles at an old friend's behest. Their earlier sound was a little derivative but still fresh, but the later stuff was where they truly shone. She could easily picture her beatnik buddy, Chloe, lounging in her room and listening to Get Back while smoking a cigarette or one of her “giggle-smokes” she'd liked to talk about. Wowser, it had been a while since she'd talked to Chloe. Their last phone call had been...Christmas. Two years ago.

Bad Max.

She sat up and slung her legs over the side of her bed her feet hitting the cool hardwood floor and sending a small shiver up her spine. Hauling herself to feet, she stretched before moving to pull aside the curtains in her room and let in the beautiful morning sun. It was a breezy and rather warm October day. The trees had only just begun to brown, and there were even a few people mowing their yards despite the time of year. Even Dad was outside trimming the hedges near Max's window. His reddish beard glinting in the sunlight, he met Max's eyes and waved, and Max reached to open her window up, letting in the full brunt of the chorus of morning sounds. Birds chirping, distant mowers, the even more distant sounds of vehicles at the Red Rocket station down the road. Dad made his way over and grinned, showing the silver tooth he'd gotten during his Army days.

“Morning, Skipper,” he said, prompting a roll of the eyes from Max. She had earned the name during her youth due to her tendency to skip from place to place when she was particularly excited. Dad was the only one who still called her that, which was just as well, since only he could get away with it.

“Morning,” Max smiled back at him. “You took the day off? I thought you were supposed to go in to the hardware store today.”

“I'm going to the Veteran's Hall tonight,” he said. “Some fancy event for the Gobi Offensive vets. Hope the food's better than the Memorial Day thing.”

“It's always about the food with you,” Max said with a rueful smile, and Dad winked at her.

“It can make or break these things,” he said. “Nick James is giving a speech, you know Nick?”

“Yeah, how's their son been doing?” Max asked. “Little...Shaun?”

“Actually, they were asking me if you'd be okay with babysitting tonight,” Dad told her. “Would you mind? They'll pay you.”

“I'd love to watch Shaun,” Max cooed. “He's such a little sweetie. And money is nice.”

“Atta girl,” Dad winked. “Go get some breakfast. I can hear your tummy rumbling from here.”

“Yeah right,” Max smirked. “See you later, Dad.”

She stepped away from the window, heading toward the bathroom to take a quick shower and get herself ready for the world. The radio in the bathroom held its own against Mom's Ink Spots, blasting Elvis Presley's A Little Less Conversation in defiance of the slow crooning in the kitchen. This faded to Get Rhythm by Johnny Cash, followed by a jazzy number Max couldn't place, though it was trumpet-heavy and had Max tapping her foot as she toweled off and brushed her teeth. Feeling scrubbed and minty fresh, she stepped out and headed down the hallway, running a brush through her mousy brown hair. She needed to get a cut soon; it was nearly to her shoulders.

A soft rush of air sounded, and she saw Lisa the Miss Nanny bot floating around the corner, supported by a single jet booster. A pristine white sphere with three eyes perched on stalks protruding from it and three legs devoted to various household tasks sprouting from the underside, the Miss Nanny was advertised by General Atomics to be the pinnacle of household maintenance, freeing up hours of time to spend with your family rather than drudging away at chores. At least, that's what the commercials said. Mom and Dad had finally broken down and gotten one on the stipulation that Dad still handled the yard and hedges. He apparently found the work relaxing, a notion that Max just couldn't wrap her head around.

“Good morning, Maxine,” she said, her synthesized voice warm and full of affectionate cheer. “Did you sleep well?”

“Lisa, I keep telling you to call me Max,” Max insisted, and the robot's two outer eyes tucked in while the front one raised up, a gesture Max had learned to interpret as Lisa's version of a smile.

“I know, but Maxine just sounds so regal,” she said. “Like a queen or an empress.”

“I think I'd prefer to be a pirate queen,” Max said with a grin. “Sailing the seas and collecting treasure.”

“Captain Maxine, the Queen of the Pirates,” Lisa said, her exhaust port popping briefly as her legs spun on their axis. “I'd read that comic. Quite quickly, as well. My image processing software just received an upgrade. I can comprehend a visual stimulus faster than the human brain can process the fact that it's there.”

“I can understand the concept of art,” Max shot back with a smirk, earning mechanical chuckle from the robot.

“Touche,” Lisa said. “Bacon and eggs are still warm, if you'd like to help yourself, Captain Maxine.”

“I might just pillage up some breakfast,” Max said with a smile. “Thank you, Lisa.”

“You are most welcome...Max,” Lisa said, floating past her. Max smiled to herself and made her way down the hallway to the kitchen. Here at Sanctuary Hills, a small housing community in Concord where every home was a House of Tomorrow, the residents suffered only the finest luxuries. This included the kitchen, which was equipped with all the bells and whistles Mom needed to whip up the finest meals possible, and with Lisa around to take care of cleanup, she'd been getting quite creative as of late. Max strode into the kitchen and saw Mom leaning against the island counter, sipping her tea and watching some morning talk show while the dishwasher hummed in the background.

According to nearly everyone she had met, Max was the spitting image of her mom. Both had brown hair that fell in nearly the same way, both had a spattering of freckles across their faces, and both tended toward a waifish physique that Max was thankful for. Dad was great, but he was a burly guy; Max was quite thankful that she had inherited most of Mom's looks. Mom looked up when she heard Max enter the spacious lounge area—the House of Tomorrow boasted an open floor plan—and nodded toward the plate of eggs, bacon, and toast on the bar counter.

“Breakfast,” she said with a smile. “Get it while it's still warm.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Max said. “It smells amazing.”

“Thank the Jenn-Air Atomic company,” Mom said with a gesture at the stove. “Nuclear-powered cooking. Can you believe it?”

“That's exactly what you said when you looked at the pamphlet for the house,” Max said, remembering well the moment Dad had told them that the Army had approved his early retirement in light of his commendable service history. The news that they would be living in a high-end house with all of the amenities and a sizable pension had been...amazing. But with it had come the revelation that she would be moving across the country, from Arcadia Bay, Oregon, all the way out to Concord, Massachusetts, and away from her very best friend, the aforementioned beatnik Chloe Price.

She really needed to call Chloe sometime, Max pondered as she ate her breakfast. Well, it was Saturday; maybe she could check in with her, apologize for being so very awkward about making contact. She had been considering asking Mom if she could enroll in Blackwell Academy in Arcadia Bay for her senior year. Their photography program was apparently amazing, and for all the technological advancement that had been happening in recent years, photography was still taking pictures of pretty things that would make people think about life. It wasn't exactly a stable career path, but it was something Max was passionate about.

She finished her breakfast soon enough and slid to her feet, setting her plate in the sink. She had a full Saturday ahead of her and very little to do, at least until tonight, when –

“Honey!” Dad's voice shouted from outside, and he showed up in the doorway with a wide-eyed expression. “Vanessa! Check the news, quickly!”

Max and her mother both hurried for the living area, Dad joining them. They needn't have changed the channel to check the news; the local station had already cut in with an emergency broadcast. There was a news anchor sitting at his desk. There were no papers in front of him, and he kept pressing a finger to his ear, like he was listening in on an earpiece. His voice was quiet, subdued as he spoke.

“Followed by...yes, followed by flashes. Blinding flashes. Sounds of explosions.... We're...we're trying to get confirmation...but we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations.... We do have...coming in..confirmed reports, I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania. My God.”

“This is it,” Dad muttered. “It's happening. Vanessa, get Max in the car, now!”

“What's happening?” Max asked as Mom took her hand. “Dad, what's – “

“Get in the car!” Dad shouted, hurrying down the hallway. “Vanessa, where are the keys!?”

“On the dresser,” Mom said, her voice shaking. “Ryan....”

Dad paused and turned to stare at Mom for a moment.

“Car,” he breathed. “Get in. Now.”

Mom dragged her along, out into the balmy morning. It was a gorgeous day outside, the lightest of breezes causing the leaves of the surrounding trees to dance gently in the wind. Max had been thinking about going for a walk later, enjoying the nice weekend. There had even been talk of a barbecue tomorrow, of finishing her weekend on a high note before she went back to school on Monday. School...barbecues, walks.... It all felt so far away now. The day that had only been talked about as a near-impossibility was upon them.

The Great War had begun.

All around them, the street was in disarray, families hurrying for their own cars, arguing in front of their houses, or otherwise panicking. Mom yanked open the backseat of Dad's brand new car, all but shoving Max in. She hurried to clamp her seat belt with shaking hands and peering out the window as Mom waited for Dad to emerge from the house. Mom was so tense and nervous she was practically shaking as they waited. The car still smelled new, and Dad often complained that he hadn't really taken it on any long-haul car-rides yet. They had even planned a family trip up to Maine to see the leaves change color.

It looked like that wasn't going to to happen anymore.

Dad bolted from the house, shouting over his shoulder, and Max saw Lisa in the doorway. It was all too surreal. Mere minutes ago, she had been having a simple conversation with Lisa, morning banter. Now it looked like she might never see the robot nanny ever again. She rolled her window down and shouted as Dad started up the car.

“Lisa, be safe!”

“Safe travels, Captain Maxine!” Lisa called back, waving one of her legs. Dad took off in the car, narrowly avoiding running down one of the neighbors as he got onto the road.

“Where are we going?” Max asked. She winced as a siren sprang to life in the distance, whining out a klaxon-like warning of apocalyptic doom. “Dad, what's gonna happen?”

“We're going to be fine, Skipper,” Dad said, though it was obvious he was forcing calm into his voice. “We're going to that vault down the road. Vault 111.”

“We got into a vault?” Max asked, lurching in her seat when Dad turned off of the road and down a dirt path through the trees. The car pitched and bounced beneath them as they traveled along the uneven terrain, passing by families that had given up driving and were simply walking the trip to the vault, clutching at bags of belongings and armfuls of clothes. Max thought of her camera, still back at home on her dresser, of all of the new clothes Mom and Dad had bought her for her new school so she would make a good impression. She'd never even worn some of the outfits they had gotten her.

The trees floated overhead, casting splotch shadows that danced along the car as Dad continued down the path. Max hugged her knees and tried not to look at the beautiful foliage, the sunlight streaming through the trees and hinting at the sea-blue sky beyond it. That the looming threat of nuclear annihilation had finally come to a head on such a picturesque day was almost insulting.

After a tense five minutes trundling along the path, Dad pulled the car to stop, killed the engine, and hurriedly unfastened his seatbelt to get out. Max did the same, ushered along by Mom, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her toward a crowd of people that had clustered near some sort of military checkpoint. A fence surrounded a large flat area that had been cleared of trees, and the only entrance was being guarded by two figures in imposing military power armor suits. Max had never seen one this close before; they were enormous.

“Let us through!” Dad shouted, and Max winced at how loud he could make his voice. Dad had spent some time training new recruits on the use of power armor (and had even run Max through a lecture or two as practice) and was thus quite good at a “get your attention” tone. He bull-rushed the crowd with all the effectiveness of a linebacker, shouldering people apart and leading the way for his wife and daughter.

“Caulfield!” a voice called over the crowd. “Caulfield, get up here, c'mon!”

They made it to the front of the scrum, and Max saw a slight blond man with a clipboard. He was dressed in simple BDUs and body armor as opposed to the metal monsters flanking him. His eyes were wide, and the clipboard was trembling just a bit in his hands, but he stood straight and unflinching at the crowd before him.

“Schumer,” Dad said, and he looked like he was trying to come up with anything to say. But there was nothing left to say.

“Go,” Schumer said. “Go, we've got a bogey two minutes out and closing. We think they're gonna go for Boston proper.”

“Good luck, Schumer,” Dad said, turning back to Mom and Max. “Let's go.”

A wind picked up as he led them along, the steady thudding of a Vertibird growing louder. Max looked up and saw one of the aircraft hovering overhead, a loudspeaker shouting at the assembled crowd to make room for those that were on the list. They crested a small hill, a large metal platform coming into view. Beyond it, the hill swooped back down and offered a stunning view of the Commonwealth of Boston. Years ago, before Vault-Tec had purchased the land, this had probably been a perfect date spot, a quiet place to park and listen to music with a lover and maybe steam up some windows.

They hurried forward to where a crowd was already gathering on the platform. Max recognized a few of their neighbors, notably the James family and their little boy, Shaun. It looked like they wouldn't need a babysitter after all. Nick looked to have just gotten up, not even out of his pajamas yet, and Nora was clutching Shaun with evident terror. Having to go through the apocalypse with a baby couldn't be fun at all.

Max slowed to a stop on the platform, staring out over Boston, over the Commonwealth, over America. She'd never shared the patriotic fervor the radio or TV would have had her embracing, but she did care about her country, about her home, and about her father, who had risked his life on more than one occasion to defend it. How must he feel, knowing that the enemies had found home anyway?

She felt Dad's heavy hands on her shoulders. He was so much bigger than her and mom, a great big teddy bear that had a way of making Max feel...safe.

“What's gonna happen to us?” Max asked, and Dad squeezed gently.

“We're going to be okay,” he said. “We'll stick together and ride this out as a family. Life in a vault will be...different, but it won't - “

 _CRACK!_ A sound like a bolt of lightning, though it lasted only a second, and on the horizon, a glow appeared, so bright that it seemed to sap the light from the sky around it. A cloud of dust shot up and bloomed in the sky, a mushroom cloud. Max had never seen one so close, and she knew that the fact that she was seeing one now was a bad sign.

“Go, go, go, take them down!” a voice shouted in the distance over the sound of the Vertibird and the sudden rushing roar that was now sending a shockwave across the trees, toward them. The platform lurched beneath her, starting to sink downward, slowly, agonizingly slowly. As soon as they were below ground level, a set of steel doors closed shut above them, and everything was dark, the kind of dark Max's eyes had trouble adjusting to. She clutched tightly to Dad, who gave her shoulders another squeeze as they traveled downward for a long moment, away from the surface, away from their old life, down into the cold steel of the vault. Tiny lights appeared along the shaft soon enough, and a brighter one grew at their feet, filling the whole platform as it finally landed at the entrance to Vault 111. There was a small entryway where a portly, balding man with a mustache to rival Dad's stood waiting for them. He wore a blue jumpsuit, the trademark of all vault dwellers. This one, of course, was emblazoned with a large yellow number “111” on it.

“Everyone, please remain calm,” he said, sounding quite rehearsed as he greeted them all. “We'll get everyone situated in your new home. Vault 111! A better future. Underground! If you'll please step past me, we'll begin getting you all processed.”

He stepped aside and gestured them all up a metal staircase. Max fell in behind Dad and in front of Mom, her ears ringing in the sudden silence the vault afforded. All around her was metal painted a cool blue color, scaffolding and metal beams criss-crossing the high ceiling above her and casting long shadows in the crisp fluorescent lighting. In front of them, a metal pathway marked off by a railing herded them through what was probably some sort of check-in area. Beyond it, a hallway led further into the vault. A few other doors also presumably led to different sections, though they were shut tight and marked Off-Limits

“Names, please,” a worker in a blue jumpsuit and padded security armor spoke up as they passed along a row of scanning devices, tall, angular, and white, that hummed as they strode through them. Max couldn't begin to guess their function, but she felt no noticeable effect.

“Ryan Caulfield,” Dad said, gesturing behind him. “My daughter, Max, and my wife, Vanessa.”

The man took a moment to consult his clipboard, looking up with a personable smile. “Welcome to Vault 111. Don't you worry, you're quite safe down here. Down to your right, there's an attendant in a white coat there. She'll be passing out your vault suits, and then we'll get you all to orientation. Sound good?”

“Thank you,” Mom said as they passed by him, heading for a woman standing amidst an assortment of white tables stacked with boxes.

“It's cold down here,” Max spoke quietly, and Mom wrapped her in a hug.

“It's safe,” Dad said with a wan smile back at her. “And I'll take a little chill over how hot it probably is up there right now.”

“Ryan,” Mom said in a chiding tone, but Max couldn't stop a small smile, morbid as the joke had been.

“Hello,” the white-coated woman said as they approached. “Caulfield?”

“Yes, Ma'am,” Dad told her, and she ducked back behind one of the tables to produce three jumpsuits folded into large squares and wrapped in thick plastic. Each of them got one, and Max hastened to take hers when it was handed to her, the thick plastic packaging crackling loudly as she gripped it.

“Here are your jumpsuits,” the woman said, gesturing behind her to where some plastic booths with privacy curtains had been erected. “There's a small changing area back there. Please change quickly so we can get you all to orientation. If you have any personal effects in your pockets, Vault-Tec jumpsuits have very spacious pockets as well.”

“C'mon, Max,” Dad said, ushering her toward the changing booths. Max stepped into one and realized for the first time that she was still in her pajamas and slippers. Everything had happened so fast, she'd never even had a chance to get properly dressed. She slid out of her clothes, shivering as her bare skin was subjected to the full force of how very cold it was down here. Sliding legs dotted with goosebumps into the vault suit, she spent a ponderous moment getting her arms into the sleeves as well. She'd never worn a jumpsuit before, and it was actually a bit of a challenge to get it on. She zipped up the front, taking advantage of the mirror in the dressing booth to see how it looked on her. She wasn't too pleased with how much it clung to her, leaving little to the imagination, but she supposed that was just part of the design. She did one last little turn to find that the clinginess was universal, the tight fabric hugging her butt completely.

Great.

“Max, you alright in there?” Dad called, and Max jumped. Right. This was the apocalypse; no time to be self-conscious. She hurried out of the booth, spotting Mom and Dad nearby, both in their blue suits as well. At least they also seemed not to fond of their jumpsuits' skintight fit.

“All finished?” the woman in the lab coat asked them, having been joined recently by another scientist, this one a male with close-cropped blond hair. “If you'll please follow our scientist, Dr. Hardy here, he'll take you down to Decontamination.”

“Hello there,” Dr. Hardy said, nodding to them as he gestured down the hallway Max had noticed earlier. “Please, down this hallway.”

“What's going to happen to us?” Mom asked as they walked along. “Are there...rooms or places we can live? I never really looked at your pamphlets.”

“We'll explain everything and answer all of your questions after this next little procedure,” Dr. Hardy said as they passed down a long hallway, making a right into a massive room filled with metal pods that looked like oversized hi-tech port-a-potties. Even the inside was a chair, though there was no hole, obviously . “All we need to do is pop you in these decontamination pods so we can remove any bacteria or residual radiation from topside. It's only to ensure a clean environment, you see.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Dad said, peering into one of the pods. “Looks like a port-a-potty, doesn't it?”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Max said with a quiet giggle. Dad smiled at her and tousled her hair before gesturing at one of the pods.

“Alright, Skipper, let's get sanitized so we can stop bothering the good Doctor here,” he said, climbing into a pod of his own while Mom hopped up next to him. “Ready when you are, Doc.”

“This will only be a moment,” the doctor said as Max climbed into her own pod, settling onto the cushy padded seat. Around her, she could see other residents being directed into pods of their own, ready to move on to a new life, to settle in for a safe and cozy existence underground and safe from the radiation. With a soft hissing sound, the pods closed, and it was quiet for a moment before an electronic voice spoke.

“Resident secure. Occupant vitals: normal.”

There was a short pause, and Max peered out the window to see that most of the scientists were...leaving? She turned to stare across the aisle at Dad's pod. He met her eyes and smiled, placing a hand on the window. While she couldn't hear the words, she saw him mouth something.

“ _Love you, Skipper.”_

The electronic voice spoke again, startling her.

“Procedure complete.”

Well, at least they were almost done.

“In...five...four....”

Max gasped, feeling a jolt in her system as it was suddenly cold, too cold, the chill sending a shiver up her spine. But it didn't stop, just seized her in its grasp and didn't let go.

“Three...two.... One....”

Cold... So very cold. She couldn't think. She couldn't hear, couldn't see. She couldn't feel.

…...

A thunderclap sounded, a bright flash that filled her vision. Max's eyes snapped open to see a world turned sideways, literally and figuratively. She was lying on her side on the ground, and all around her, dust, dirt, and debris swirled in a tumultuous spiral. She climbed to her feet, barely able to see through the storm happening around her. How had she gotten here? And where even was this place?

Making her way along a dirt path that wound up through skeletal trees, she watched as the wind tore the leaves from them as fast as she approached each one. Trunks creaked and snapped under the force of the wind, and Max was shocked that she wasn't being whipped away in the maelstrom. The path...this path was familiar. She'd walked it several times during her youth, hand-in-hand with Chloe as they'd gone on pirate adventures. It sure looked like the path Chloe and Max had used a lifetime ago when they had wanted to go visit the cliff-side lighthouse that overlooked the bay that earned Arcadia Bay it's name. There was the rock formation that she and Chloe had once discussed resembling a bunny rabbit (Argoth the Bunny of Stone), and there was the fire pit that had entertained many a teenage visitor to the cliff-top. But how had she gotten to Arcadia Bay? And why was she here?

Reaching the top of the hill, she lifted her hands to shield her eyes from the bulk of the dust, but she still had to blink some of it away; if this was a dream, it was a very vivid one. Through the gloom, she could make out the lighthouse, towering over her, a monolithic silhouette outlined against a dim sun. And at its base was.... No way. This _had_ to be a dream. There was no way she was actually seeing this.

There was no way Chloe was simply standing out in the open, clutching to the bench that overlooked the bay.

“Chloe?” Max spoke, but her words were lost in the din of sounds around her. “Chloe!”

Chloe couldn't hear her, though. She simply stood there, staring out over Arcadia Bay sprawled below and...crying? As Max drew closer, through the clouds of dust and dirt, she could make out tears running down her erstwhile best friend's cheeks.

“Max...” Chloe sobbed, and Max felt like someone had reached out and gripped her heart, twisting it in her chest. The only time she had ever heard Chloe sound so distraught was...well, days before she'd left, when Chloe had found out her father wouldn't be coming back from the Gobi Desert.

“Chloe, I'm here,” Max said. “Chloe?”

Chloe didn't seem to hear her, though, and as she kneeled, hunched over on the cliffside, Max saw the lighthouse give way, the base of it crumbling under the onslaught of rocks and debris. The dirt under it crumpled into nothingness, and the lighthouse began to topple with an earsplitting groan, falling down onto both of them –

…...

It was so cold. Why was it so unbelievably cold? It was supposed to be a mild autumn, not subzero temperatures! She tried to roll over and grab for more blankets, but her limbs felt stiff and sluggish. Was she still dreaming? This was how it felt to move in a dream. She heard Dad's voice, a distant echo that was almost not even there.

“ _War...war never changes....”_

When Max had been only a child, that had been the sentiment often expressed by her father. It was the only explanation she had ever gotten when she had asked why he'd had to go away so often, and the answer she'd received almost every time she'd questioned Dad's nightmares or his hatred of Arcadia Bay's cold weather. “War never changes.”

Dad had been a military man, an army corporal that had gladly put his life on the line for his country during the Battle of Anchorage, and then again during the Gobi Campaign. Both times he had left Max unsure if she would ever see him again, and both times he had come back, looking worn and haunted but still with that same smile on his face as he had greeted Max.

“ _Hey, Skipper....”_

Suddenly, she was awake as briskly as if she were surfacing from underwater, gasping for breath with a rattling wheeze that ended on a choking cough. A crisp pneumatic hiss sounded as the quiet groan of metal on metal filled her ears. It was cold, so very cold, a wracking chill that filled her entire being and shook her as she stumbled forward and fell. She was met by unyielding metal that jarred her wrists, sending twin jolts of pain up her arms. Pushing herself to her feet with trembling limbs, she blinked a few times, her vision taking a moment to focus. Just as cloudy was her mind, her memories. She remembered a normal morning, breakfast in the kitchen with Mom and Lisa...and then the bombs. Dad had come bursting into the house, a rake still in his hand and sweat soaking his shirt.

“ _It's happening....”_

She'd been whisked off to a vault, taken deep underground to live out her life in safety. There had been a decontamination procedure.... She'd been placed in a pod and.... The procedure was supposed to take only a few seconds, but...the pristine metal interior of the vault—once painted various shades of calming blue—were now aged, rusted, and covered in what had to be years of grime. A low, grating alarm was blaring in the background, and there was a constant dripping sound around her, as though it were somehow raining inside the vault.

There was no way it had only taken a few seconds....

“H-hello?” she called into the dim lighting, her voice raspy and choked. She coughed and doubled over in a shivering fit of coughs before she found her breath again. “Hello!?”

There was no response except for the jarring noise of the alarm. Hers was the only pod open as well. Why weren't –

“Mom,” she gasped. “Dad!”

They'd been ushered into the pods right across from her when they'd first arrived at the vault. Max had met her father's eyes and seen his reassuring smile after the doors had closed. Then everything had gotten so cold....

“Dad!” she gasped, reaching the pod and rubbing away condensation from the window. She saw him sitting limply in the pod, slumped to one side in his seat. “No!”

Quickly glancing around, she found a manual release for the pod, a large red lever, and yanked it. It clicked into place, and with another hissing sound, the pod's lid sprang free and nearly smacked her in the head on the way up. Max fought back a sobbing sound as a foul smell wafted out of the pod, causing her to gag. Still, she pressed forward, stepping up and reaching out to gently take hold of her father's shoulder. It was cold under her touch, and his muscles felt stiff. Likewise, his normally round face was drawn and bony.

“Oh, no...” she sighed. “No, Dad....”

She stumbled back and hurried over to her mom's pod right next to Dad's, yanking the lever and stepping back to let it open as well. Mom's pod was in little better shape, with the same odor that Max knew now was decay. The pods were air-tight and hermetically sealed, but that hadn't stopped at least a small amount of breakdown. She saw her mother's face, a hideous mask pulled tight over her skull, and she fell to her knees.

“Oh, God...” she sobbed. “Mom.... Dad.... Who did this?”

It hadn't been meant to be this way. The vault was supposed to be a safe place for them to ride out the war, a place they could hide and live out their lives in relative comfort. Instead, they'd been stuffed into some sort of...cryogenic containment pods. But to what end? Why had they been here long enough for the vault to fall into disrepair? Why had the vault even been _allowed_ to fall into disrepair? Where were the scientists, the doctors, the overseer? Where were all the people that had been here when Max and her parents had arrived? Why had they just been...left here to die!?

She didn't know how long she was there, kneeling in front of her parents' lifeless bodies, but the soft hiss of an opening door alerted her to at least one other person still alive an in the vault with her. But...were they friendly? Or were they with whoever was responsible for whatever had happened to the vault? Max still wasn't entirely sure what _had_ happened, but it was definitely something awful. She crept back toward her pod and tucked herself away behind it, listening carefully. Quiet footsteps sounded along the metal floor, splashing softly in the water pooling across the warped surface. Then she heard a voice, a voice familiar to her but so far removed from where her mind was that it was jarring at first to hear.

“Nothing in here, either. Should we even check the terminal?”

“Hm, maybe,” another voice said. It was unfamiliar, but the first speaker was someone Max knew only too well. What was Chloe Price was doing here, all the way across the country from where Max had last parted ways with her? How had she even gotten here? Was it really her or just a soundalike? Max chanced a peek from behind her cover and saw two females around her age standing at the terminal near the entrance to the long room. The taller of the two certainly matched Max's last memory of Chloe, a goodbye that currently seemed a lifetime ago. The other had sandy blonde hair pulled into a loose bun, the only feature Max could make out from here. Both were wearing Vault-Tec blue jumpsuits like the one Max herself wore, with bright yellow numbers signifying Vault 111 emblazoned across the back. They were speaking to each other in low voices that Max couldn't make out, but after a few moments, Chloe spun and had a gun out, aimed down the row of pods.

“Alright, who the fuck's there?” she asked in a raised voice that echoed off the metal walls around them. “Come out, hands where I can see them!”

“Chloe...” Max sighed, keeping her hands up, trembling though they were. She stood and made her way out into the aisle, her eyes swimming with tears. Chloe shimmered and warped before her as she blinked back warm wetness that spilled down her cheeks, sniffling. “It's...it's me....”

“Max?” Chloe gasped out, and through the haze of her tears, Max saw Chloe lower the gun back to her side. “Max, what's...oh.... Oh, holy shit, Max....”

And then Max was swept up in a hug, pulled into an embrace that had her sighing in relief, arms falling limply to her sides for a moment before she reached up and hugged Chloe as tightly as she could, with everything she had. Because Chloe was all she had right now. Something had happened, something had gone wrong with the vault, and whatever it was had taken her parents from her. But Chloe was here, and that meant that everything was at least okay. It wasn't perfect, but it was okay.

“Max, what happened?” Chloe asked, slowly extricating herself from the embrace and peering down at Max, who took a moment to drink in the sight of her estranged friend. Chloe had grown taller, had developed into a young woman in the few years she and Max had spent apart, but she still had the same beautiful features, those amazingly blue eyes, and her trademark blonde hair (though shorn up to her chin instead of draped over her shoulders). Next to Max, with her mousy brown locks and general average appearance, Chloe was like a model, tall and lean.

“Chloe...we should get out of here,” Chloe's new friend pointed out with a concerned look at Max. “I don't think there's anyone else...we can bring with us.”

“Oh, God,” Max gasped. “My parents.”

“Max...let's just get out of here, okay?” Chloe told her, gently dragging her toward the door. “C'mon, the entrance is back this way.”

“What happened?” Max asked, stumbling along behind her friend. “Why did this happen?”

“I don't know, Max,” Chloe said with a shake of her head. “I really.... I don't know. But we'll be okay, understand? We're gonna be okay. We just have to get out of here.”

Max allowed herself to be led back out of the room full of cryo pods, the hi-tech port-a-potties. Had it really only been minutes ago that she and her father had been laughing about the comparison? It felt like it.... It sure didn't look like it, though. Where had this layer of grime and rust to everything come from? Following Chloe back along the hallway to the main entrance area where she and her parents had been given their vault suits only minutes ago, she found only skeletons and a fine layer of dust floating in the air.

“Oh...oh, no,” Max said, stumbling forward and staring out over the entryway she'd come in through less then half an hour ago. It had to have only been half an hour, and even then...it only barely felt that long to her. Why, then, was everything so...old-looking? What had happened?

“The door is sealed shut,” Chloe's friend said as they paused on the metal scaffolding leading up to the staircase at the entrance to the vault. The staircase itself was now on the other side of a large metal door that had been sealed in place since the last time Max had been here. It looked like a bank vault door, though massively bigger and thus much harder to move. “We'd need a Pip-Boy to get out.”

“What, are we just gonna find one laying on the ground or something?” Chloe snorted, and Max spotted something on the metal pathway she'd followed into this place. A skeleton was sprawled along the width of the path, and lying on the floor with a bony wrist through it was a Pip-Boy.

“Um...I think I just did,” Max said, picking up the Pip-Boy. She'd only heard of them before. RobCo had developed Pip-Boys as a personal computing device, with nearly all of the functionality of a home terminal device, along with a geosynchronous positioning device, vitals-scanning functions, and even a personal radio. As Max picked it up, a back-lit green screen flickered to life, showing the device's various functions as tabs up at the top. It flopped open as she moved it in her grip, peering over at Chloe and the stranger. “Um....”

“Put it on,” Chloe insisted. “There's a plug you can use to open the door, I think.”

Max shook loose a few random small bones, trying not to think about the fact that she was attaching this thing to her wrist after finding it on a literal skeleton. Fastening the Pip-Boy around her left forearm, she took a moment and watched as the device read her vitals, showing things like heartbeats per minute, blood toxicity levels, and...limb integrity? That didn't seem promising. In any case, there were more important matters to attend to.

Reaching for the back of the device, she located a retractable cord and drew it out with a muted whirring sound, plugging it into a small console near the staircase. A new option appeared on the Pip-Boy, appropriately titled _Vault-Tec Door Interface_ , and on the console, a singular red button, larger than others, lit up brightly. Taking the cue, Max pressed it, and a deep, grating alarm sounded, yellow lights flashing and filling up the small entryway. A massive metal arm unfolded from the ceiling, fitting into the very center of the vault door. As the metal arm rose back upward, it pulled the vault door with it with an earsplitting grating sound, and the huge round thing rolled to the side, allowing the metal bridge Max had passed over before to unfold and form anew, leading them toward the lift that had brought them down here in the first place.

“C'mon,” Chloe said. “Let's just get out of here.”

“Agreed,” her new friend spoke, and Max could only nod, too afraid to attempt to speak after the emotional day she'd just had. Chloe took the initiative and grabbed Max's hand, leading her toward the lift, which like everything else in this vault, was fit to rust into pieces. Max wasn't so sure about trusting the elevator after such a...a long time had obviously passed, but she needed to get out of this place. Whatever was happening above ground had to at least be better than this place. Hopefully.

The made their way down the stairs leading to the vault and stepped onto the lift. Chloe found another lighted red button and nearly punched the thing in an effort to press it. There was yet another klaxon-like alarm noise as the vault prepared to take three of her clients topside, and the metal platform lurched under Max, taking her and her two new companions up with it.

It was time to find out what had happened, both to the world and to Max's world.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still kind of a slow chapter, but I'm trying to gauge the internet's general reaction to this concept before I dive in neck-deep and set up a full-scale lore for this crossover universe I've crafted. There's a lot of story I've come up with, and a lot of major overhauls to the established lore of the game. This will be explored in greater detail in the next chapter, if this gains any traction.

Max thought she would be prepared for whatever awaited her at the top of the lift. After all, she had seen the nuke go off in the distance, felt the heat and wind even from so far away. And after the shocking discovery of her parents, she felt nothing could really make it worse at this point.

But she had been quite wrong.

The twin doors at the top of the lift creaked and groaned as they worked their way open, letting in a beam of sunlight that had Max squinting as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. It seemed like so long since she'd actually seen sunlight. Finally, the platform lurched to a stop, leaving the trio staring out over what had become of the world.

“Oh...” Chloe's friend breathed out. “Oh, no....”

“Holy shit,” Chloe herself sighed.

All around, it was silent, much too silent. Where the area around the vault entrance had once been lush and green, now it was barren, only a few patches of dead grass visible here and there. Was it the time of year? Maybe it was just a result of the first frost of the year or something. Max checked the Pip-Boy on her wrist and saw that—if the device was correct—it was nearing the end of October...2287!?

"Oh, man..." she gasped, staring at the date for a long moment, hoping that it might re-synchronize or something, update to something that wasn't so unbelievable. When it didn't, she felt a stab of panic. So much time... "Oh...God..."

She fell to her knees, staring at the screen for a long moment before she looked around again, taking in the sight of the ruined vault shacks around them, the wrecked buildings down beyond the hill. Two hundred years. There was no way. But if it was true...

"Max?" Chloe asked as Max sprung to her feet, hurrying toward the place beyond the vault door, where the hill dropped off to offer a view of Concord below them. "Max!"

She slowed to a halt, squinting into the distance. There was barely anything left, most of the buildings having crumbled or rusted away to nothingness. It was so quiet, too eerily quiet. All around, them, things felt...primordial, like humans hadn't been through here in long enough for nature to being retaking everything. All at once, Max felt like none of them belonged here. They were seeing things none of them should see, a far-flung, distant future they shouldn't have been alive for A dizzy wave of nausea washed over her, and she almost fell to her knees again, but Chloe caught her.

"Max, what – "

"We...Chloe, we were down there for over two-hundred years!"

The statement hung in the calm, silent air for a long moment. Chloe went very still as she hung onto Max, and then she scrabbled for Max's Pip-Boy, peering down at the screen as well.

"That can't be right," she said with a firm shake of her head. "That's...impossible. It only feels like a day, tops."

"We'd be swimming in radiation right now if the bombs were only dropped yesterday," the other girl said as she came up next to them. "Besides, look around. Everything's...old."

"Two-hundred years," Max breathed out.

"...Fuck," Chloe swore after a protracted silence.

"We should get moving," Chloe's friend said, making her way over. "We need to...find shelter or something. I gathered some stuff from in the vault, but we should really find a place to hunker down and...figure out what we're gonna do."

"My house is only a few minutes away," Max told them, gesturing vaguely back down the hill. "If it's...still there, we can make camp in there."

"Alright, let's get moving," the blonde said, taking Max's wrist in her hands and pulling her to her feet. "Um...I'm Rachel, by the way. I'm a friend of Chloe's from Arcadia Bay."

"How did you two get here?" Max asked. "It's...all the way across the country."

“My dad was a DA back home,” Rachel told her. “He knew some people at Vault-Tec, and...well, he got them out of some legal trouble, so he called in a favor. Vault 111 was one of the last vaults with vacancies, so...he flew me across the country with Chloe because he didn't want me to be alone. He and Mom were gonna fly over today—well...the next day. I guess...they missed the flight.”

“It all...happened so suddenly,” Max said with a shake of her head. “I still...I mean, I'm having trouble even processing it. It feels like I was only down there for...an hour.”

“Well, we're all here now,” Chloe said, digging around in a bag of her own and producing a pistol. “Why don't we deal with this whole apocalypse thing before we have a full-scale mental breakdown? Oh, Max, you need a gun? We found a few in the vault.”

 

Years ago, when Max had been just starting high school, Dad had taken her out to the shooting range and taught her how to fire a simple 10mm pistol. Max had been terrified, nearly crying when Dad had pressed the weapon into her hands, but Dad had insisted that in the trying times that had been plaguing the country, the possibility of her needing to pull a trigger, to defend herself, had been extremely real. After an exhausting day of firing at target after target, Dad had only been pleased when Max had managed five head shots in a row, citing Privates on their first day of weapons training that would have been jealous of her eye. Then he had said something that had stuck with Max.

“ _It's okay to be afraid. It's okay to be upset if the time comes that you have to use what I've taught you today, and I pray to God that you never have to. But if it does happen. If I'm not around and your life is in danger, I expect you to not hesitate. I expect you to be decisive and do what has to be done. Not just for yourself, but for your mother. For me. If I knew it would save your life, I'd walk into a thousand wars, and I would give my life for you. But I won't always be around to save you. So I expect you to save yourself.”_

“Max...? Are you alright?”

Max shook herself, realizing that Chloe's face was inches from her own, a concerned expression knitting her brow. Max felt her face heat up at their close proximity, only managing a little nod.

“Y-yeah, just...lost in thought,” she said, reaching for the spare gun in Chloe's hand. It felt lighter than she remembered; she distinctly recalled marveling at the weight of the weapon when Dad had first given it to her. She released the clip, checking to see if it was still full, and slid it back into place with a muted clicking sound. Chloe watched with obvious admiration.

“You know your way around a gun?” she asked.

“Dad taught me to shoot a few years ag...um, before the bombs,” Max told her, holding onto the gun simply because she didn't have a holster. “Should we regroup at my house? If...it's still standing?”

“It might be a good idea to figure out what we're gonna do from here,” Rachel said. “I mean...we have no idea what state the world's in. For all we know, we could be the last actual humans alive.”

“Finally, some peace and quiet,” Chloe muttered, and Max felt herself smile for the first time since this whole craziness had begun. She let a singular little laugh, and Chloe winked at her.

Reaching the end of the path leading to the vault, Max lead the other two right and down the side of the road. Around them, most of the trees were skeletal and barren, likely dead for years. There was a substantial amount of mulch and peat on the forest floor, probably from a couple hundred years of dead trees crumbling away to nothing. Max did see several coniferous trees, splashes of green among a gray-brown background, and the forest floor was growing a few sparse patches of grass. The road itself was in pieces, jutting out in some places thanks to the effort of tree roots or just crumbled away entirely and swallowed up by decades of wear and tear. Again, things in 2077 had been built to last, but even accounting for that, 200 years of zero maintenance were beginning to take their toll. Ahead of Max, Chloe cursed as she tripped over a protruding chunk of sidewalk, casually giving it the finger as she walked on.

“Fuck you, sidewalk,” she grumbled.

“You haven't changed much,” Max told her, and Chloe grinned.

“Only for the better,” she said, spinning around for a moment with her arms outstretched. She strode backward a few steps before Rachel pulled her to a halt. Turning, Chloe saw that she had been about to trip over another root, flipping that one the bird as well. “You look...taller?”

“A little,” Max admitted with a blush. “I haven't really grown much at all.”

“You didn't need to,” Chloe told her with a smirk. “You were perfect already.”

“Wow, smooth,” Rachel said, sounding genuinely impressed as Max felt her face heat up. “You two are just adorable together.”

The road slanted downward a bit, or the place where it had been did so. The road itself had been reduced at some point to a pile of black rubble and stones at the base of the hill it had once covered. In its place, a patch of grass and flowers grew, though they seemed to be on their way out this late in the season.

“Well, at least there's still stuff growing,” Rachel observed as they picked their way down the sidewalk rubble, Max's feet slipping on some wet stone. She felt herself start to fall, but the blond's hand reached out to snag at her wrist with startlingly fast reflexes. “Got you.”

“Thanks,” Max said with a smile, pulled back to a somewhat stable footing and climbing down much more carefully now. “Um...so you're Chloe's friend?”

“Yeah, we met...three years ago?” Rachel asked Chloe, who nodded right back.

“Yep, she saved my skin at a concert for this sick new band, Firewalk,” she told Max. “These two losers were trying to pick a fight, but Rachel jumped in, and we totally beat their asses.”

“ _You_ beat their asses,” Rachel insisted with a wry smile. “I watched two mean get savagely beaten with a rusty pipe.”

“I kept it below the neck,” Chloe shrugged. “They didn't bother us again, did they?”

“They tried to break into my house,” Rachel added flatly. “Dad had them arrested. They didn't bother us because they were in jail.”

“And my point still stands,” Chloe said with a nod. “They did not bother us.”

Rachel sighed and shot a long-suffering look at Max, who only giggled softly at her friend's antics.

“Was she like this with you?” she asked, and Max nodded.

“All the time,” she said with an affectionate look at Chloe. Chloe simply struck a little pose, and Max wished she had her camera, because _every_ time Chloe posed, it was worthy of a picture. Chloe was part of the reason Max had gotten into her photography hobby, simply because her friend was so picturesque.

They pressed onward, getting closer to the river, which meant that things only got greener, more coniferous trees dotting the roadside and even growing through the wreckage of several houses around them. Max wondered if her own house would even still be there. Would she want to check it out if it was? The memory of discovering her parents'...corpses was still quite fresh, if buried under a healthy amount of concern for her life; she wasn't sure she'd be able to handle not only all of the memories but seeing her house in an apocalyptic state of decay.

Soon enough, there was no more time to debate. The trio stepped through the hanging boughs of an out-of-control willow tree, and amidst the foliage, Max saw her house. The pale yellow siding had held up surprisingly well, all things considered, tarnished and rusted away in spots but mostly intact from what Max could see. The windows were long gone, and the roof was caved in at spots, but it was much more intact than Max would have thought after two-hundred-plus years of wear-and-tear. That almost made it worse, seeing the place that had once been her home, that she vividly remembered evacuating like it had been only hours before....

“Max, you alright?” Chloe's voice said in her ear, and she felt her friend's fingers squeezing her shoulders. “Do you wanna check out a different house? We don't have to squat in your old place necessarily.”

“No, it's alright,” Max said with a shake of her head. “We can...we can go inside.”

Chloe led the way up the front path, Max close behind and quietly thanking her best friend for forging ahead so she could trail behind. They reached the door, and Chloe shot Max a quick look, seeking permission. Max nodded, and Chloe twisted the knob, opening the door with a quiet creaking sound that echoed slightly in their silent surroundings. Max was right behind as Chloe stepped inside, Rachel following both of them. Inside, the living room had been mostly cleaned out, Max saw as she peeked around Chloe. The couch had been taken a long time ago, and the TV was just a pile of parts and gutted electronics on the floor next to a disused terminal that looked to have been cobbled together from spare parts. Rachel made her way over and knelt on the floor to examine the device.

“Oh, holy shit,” Chloe sighed, making her way along the flattened carpet of the living area. She passed through to the kitchen, which was similarly cleaned out. All that was left were a few sections of counter, and most of the appliances had been either cannibalized for parts or were simply missing altogether.

“They really cleaned this place out,” Rachel said quietly as Chloe picked up a leather book cover from a shelf near the door, turning it over in her hand. The pages had long since crumbled away, leaving only the outer husk.

“Well...I hope they got some use out of whatever they were looking for,” Max said, heading down the hallway. Chloe followed while Rachel stayed and tapped away at the terminal, the gentle ticking sound of the computer functioning following her down the hallway. Max made a stop at her room first, but it was much the same as the main living area. Most of the furniture in her room had been reduced to a pile of splinters and ancient fabric, either by simple time or by someone breaking it down for some reason. She did a small circle as she took in the busted walls—missing entire sections in some places—and corroded support frame.

“It...doesn't look like there's anything left,” Chloe said with a small sigh. “I'm sorry, Max.”

“It's been over two-hundred years,” Max shrugged. “I guess...it was expecting too much to hope that there would be anything.”

She felt Chloe wrapping an arm around her shoulders and couldn't resist ducking into her embrace, sighing softly as she rested her head against the soft fabric of her friend's Vault-Tec jumpsuit. It was hard not to feel guilty; she'd spent so much time all but neglecting Chloe during the time when her best friend's father had been killed in the war, but here she was, relying on Chloe again to keep her functional during a tumultuous time in her life.

“I'm a bad best friend,” Max sighed. Chloe paused, seeming taken aback for a moment before she shook her head and squeezed Max tighter.

“You're an awkward mess that doesn't know how to be a human being sometimes,” she said. “And...Max, I was mad at you a few times. I...I felt abandoned. But I never stopped thinking of you as my best friend. I knew if you ever somehow got thrown back into my life for any reason, I would...I would forgive you in a heartbeat. And I do. Especially now. With...all this bullshit going on, I don't wanna be mad at you on top of everything else. I can't.”

“But you would be,” Max said with a small huff, and Chloe snickered.

“For like two minutes,” she said. “And then I'd just be happy to have you back.”

“I'm...so happy to have you back in my life, Chloe,” Max sighed. “Especially...with all of this.”

“I'm sorry there's...not really anything left,” Chloe said. “After two hundred years, unless you had something really hidden away....”

“Wait!” Max said, slipping from the embrace and hurrying over the pile of rubble that had been her bed. “Wait, hold on.”

She dug her hands in and begin shoving away piles of splinters and puffy fabric, pushing it aside. Chloe watched her for nearly a minute before heading over to help, digging through the residue of what had once been a functional bed and moving it away from Max's goal, a section of floor Dad had once removed and converted into a hidden storage area out of Max's desire to always hold onto a little bit of the pirate lifestyle she and Chloe had once shared. Max reached for the nearly invisible opening and pulled away the covering, setting it aside.

“Woah,” Chloe said as Max unearthed the treasure she had hidden away two centuries ago, still rather preserved, all things considered. “You really were a pirate, huh?”

“I always hide my treasures,” Max said, pulling a now ancient photo album into her lap. The plastic sleeves had promised three hundred years of protection, a claim Max had thought bold at the time, but now it was coming in quite handy. No doubt it had been meant as a way for future generations to be able to view their grandparents' and great-grandparents' pictures without having to worry about fading; Max wondered how the album's makers would react to finding out that the very same person that had preserved her pictures in their sleeves would be checking their work two hundred years later.

“Glad to know I ranked high on your treasure manifesto,” Chloe said with a small smile as they surveyed pages and pages of Max and Chloe's friendship, moments from their childhood and beyond. Picture after picture showed Max and Chloe and their time in Arcadia Bay. Max found herself actually choking up a bit as she turned the pages. Even in the black and white photos, Max could still vividly see the vibrant colors of her former home. The bright greens of Oregon in the summer, and the beautiful brown, orange, and red of an Autumn back home.

“It was so beautiful there,” Max found herself sighing, and Chloe hummed in agreement, perching her chin on Max's shoulder.

“Nothing beat the bay in Fall,” she said. “Some crazy cool colors.”

“And the view from the lighthouse,” Max said with a wistful sigh, shaking her head. “It was....”

“Gorgeous,” Chloe supplied, and they both nodded. “Maybe we'll find our way back there someday.”

“If it hasn't been blown to hell,” Max sighed.

“Hey, you saw all the trees and grass and stuff earlier,” Chloe said. “The world's a little fucked up right now, but it's not completely down and out. It'll bounce back, even if it hasn't already.”

“And...we still have each other,” Max said with smile at Chloe, who gazed back at her with a warm expression, leaning in to press their foreheads together.

“Always.”

Max couldn't think of anything else to say, just meeting Chloe's stunningly blue gaze for a long moment before Rachel's voice cut through the moment.

“Max! Chloe! C'mere, look at this!”

Chloe stood and peered back toward the living room, glancing quickly at Max.

“C'mon,” she said, holding her hand and tugging Max to her feet. They hurried back out along the hallway, but Rachel called out from the bathroom as they passed it.

“In here,” she said. Chloe staggered to a halt, Max almost running into her as they altered their course. The bathroom was a mess, crushed chunks of porcelain littering the floor, either from the toilet, the sink, or both. The shower had been torn out of the wall, along with most of the piping behind it. Max wondered what use it had been put to. She found Rachel crouching near the far left corner, next to –

“Lisa!” Max gasped, hurrying over and kneeling next to the Miss Nanny bot. Her center sphere was all that was left, and even that had been stripped off half of her armor plating. A single eye stalk feebly maneuvered around when Max spoke, and a wailing, warbling noise came from her voice box. Rachel shifted a bit and peered into the cavity left behind by the robot's missing armor, carefully moving aside wires.

“Her AI core is still intact, vocal processors are in one piece,” she said. “Her actual voice box has been damaged, though.”

She looked up, meeting the other two's questioning gaze, and shrugged at the unspoken inquiry.

“Dad bought us a Mr. Handy a few years back,” she said. “I always wanted a new voice box in him every week or two, so I had to learn how to uninstall and reinstall them without fucking up the rest of the circuitry. We might be able to interface with your Pip-Boy, Max. Gimme the plug.”

Max unfurled the plug from the back of her Pip-Boy, passing it over to Rachel, who leaned down and searched for a receptor in Lisa's framework. Chloe merely watched, her gaze slowly alternating between the pair as Rachel unwound the cord with a muted whirring sound and plugged it in somewhere in Lisa. Lights appeared on the Pip-Boy's screen, blinking on and off before a scroll of text crawled along the black background. Finally, a singular word appeared: INTERFACING.

“Lisa?” Max asked softly, jumping when Lisa's voice came out of the small speaker on her Pip-Boy.

“Max? Is that you? Max, I can't see. I...accessing memory banks....”

“She was deactivated when I found her,” Rachel told Max. “I worked the power around a few tertiary systems and got her CPU going, that's about it. There'll probably be some lag until we can repair her.”

“I was...alone. For a hundred and ninety years,” Lisa said. “There was too much radiation. Nothing could live. But then people came. The radiation cleared up, and people came her to live. They started a farm out back, and...they were so kind.”

“Did they do this to you?” Max asked.

“No...no, we lived in peace for a few months, but...raiders. Some raiders got wind of their setup and...put a stop to it. I told the family to run, that I'd hold them off as best as I could. And....”

“They probably stripped her for parts,” Rachel said with a shake of her head. “Fixing her would almost be more trouble than finding her a new body.”

“Could we do it, though?” Chloe asked. “Where would he look to find a new body?”

“There's a Red Rocket station down the road,” Max told them. “They used to do robot repairs when they could. Maybe...?”

“It's a longshot, but...maybe we should check it out,” Rachel said, jumping as a low growling sounded, but Max simply patted her stomach, which was starting to realize that it hadn't had a filling meal in about two-hundred years. “After we eat something.”

“Didn't Lisa mention a garden?” Chloe asked, heading for the door. “Maybe we can get a fire going or something, rustle up some grub.”

“I'll see about getting Lisa's AI core safely extracted,” Rachel said with a smile at Max. “You go and help her.”

Max stood, disconnecting the wire from Lisa's guts, and hurried after Chloe. Her beatnik buddy had paused in the main lounge area and was leaning against the door frame, staring out at the empty room with a soft sigh.

“This is a fucking mess,” she sighed. “A huge fucking apocalyptic mess.”

“Pretty much,” Max sighed. “But...well, at least we have each other, cliché as it sounds.”

Chloe looked down at Max with a warm smile, reaching up to fluff her hair a bit before dipping to plant a little kiss to her forehead, causing Max's cheeks to bloom with a heated blush.

“We do,” she said. “It's really good to see you again, Max. Now let's try to scrounge up some food.”

“O-okay.”

…...

In the backyard of Max's house, some sort of hybrid fruit had begun growing, looking somewhere between a potato and a tomato. Nearby, there was also a more normal looking variety of corn and a patch of shapeless carrots, meaning dinner that night was to be vegetable stew cooked up in water gathered from a stream near the house. Max's Pip-Boy had a radiation detection device or something, which told her that the water was only slightly radioactive but not enough to harm any of them.

It probably wouldn't be a good idea to try to go swimming, though.

That evening, as the sun was beginning to dip low in the sky, the trio sat around a campfire built in Max's driveway, watching sparks and smoke curl up into the darkening expanse of the sky. Max could see starts beginning to come out, and she had to marvel that even in the midst of all of this, the sky was still the same.

“Kinda funny to think that even the apocalypse can't change how pretty the stars are,” Chloe said, echoing Max's thoughts.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” she told her.

“Not a bad job on the stew, Rachel,” Chloe said through a mouthful of food, and Rachel shrugged.

“I used to go camping with Dad a lot when I was a kid,” she said, staring at the fire they had built in Max's driveway. “He taught me a lot of the survivalist crap like building a fire and how to tell if it's hot enough to cook food.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” Max observed, smiling as she took a bite of her stew. It could have done with some meat of any kind, but given their limited resources, she was pretty pleased with the fact that it was not only edible but also fairly tasty. “This is some pretty good stew.”

“So...what's the plan?” Chloe asked. “We find Lisa a new body and...then?”

Max sighed a bit as she stared out at the trees around them, shaking her head.

“We survive, I guess,” she said. “We don't know what the world is like now. Lisa said something about raiders, so there's probably bad guys, but...there could also be civilization. It's been two-hundred years. We know humanity is still around. Maybe they made a comeback.”

“It's a little terrifying, not knowing what's waiting for us out there,” Rachel sighed as she stared out at Concord in the distance, at the world beyond it. “What sort of...mutations happened. Giant rats or ants the size of labradors....”

“A praying mantis the size of a jumbo jet being worshiped by a cult of lunatics?” Chloe suggested, and they all three snickered at that one.

“I'd honestly like to see that, kinda,” Max said, taking a bit of her stew. “Just don't let it eat me or something.”

“I dunno, Max, you look like you'd taste delicious to a giant praying mantis,” Chloe pointed out with an exaggerated chomp of her teeth. Rachel giggled softly into a bite of her stew, and Max rolled her eyes.

“I see, so I'm probably gonna be offered up as a sacrifice to cover an escape attempt, am I?” she asked wryly. Chloe just winked at her, leaning in to plant another little smooch on her head.

“Nah, I'll just beat up a giant mantis,” Chloe told her, smirking at the way Max's cheeks heated up with another blush at the affectionate display. “Anyway, we should probably get some sleep. I was just frozen for two-hundred years, but I'm still kinda wiped from today.”

“Should someone keep watch?” Rachel asked, staring into the surrounding darkness. Her skin glowed softly in the firelight, and Max wished she still had her camera to snap a picture, but it was long gone at this point. Perhaps this post-apocalyptic society had figured out photography again? There was so much to learn about this new world, and a lot to fear from it if Lisa's fate was any indication.

“Wait...Lisa has proximity sensors installed,” Max said. “Dad...Dad had them put in so she could...keep an eye out for burglars. Unless they were taken....”

“Yeah, I completely forgot,” Rachel said with a shake of her head. “Yeah, she still has those. We could jack her into your Pip-Boy again and have her wake us up if anyone tries to creep up on us.”

“Hell, I'm tired, but I probably won't be able to sleep anyway,” Chloe said. “This whole situation is too fucked. It'll be nice to have a security system, though.”

“We should all get some sleep,” Max agreed.

…...

Later that night, a darkness so complete that Max couldn't see her hand in front of her face enveloped the world. They had snuffed out the fire so as not to alert any would-be raiders of their location, and that left only the moon and stars, which Max hadn't realized were quite insubstantial on their own. She was used to a world of streetlamps and stoplights, headlights on cars and the dim glow of a nightlight in the hallway so she wouldn't stub her toe. Now, thanks to a notable lack of electricity, there was none of that, only night as nature had intended.

“Dark, hm?” Rachel asked softly into the blackness. They had made a small camp in Max's living room, fashioning pillows out of spare vault suits and relying on the ones on their backs to keep them warm. Thankfully, Vault-Tec's proprietary synthetic cotton was comfortable and quite well-insulated against the chill of the night.

“Dark,” Max echoed Rachel. “We always used to have a nightlight. Dad...had trouble sleeping some nights. He'd wanna get up and go check the locks, check the windows, check on me....

“PTSD,” Rachel sighed, and Max nodded.

“Mom would tell him all the time, 'No Reds here, just your two favorite girls.' And he'd get this smile, and...he'd relax.”

Max hated the way her voice began to choke up, cutting her words off in her throat. Picturing her Dad, her Mom, the life they'd had before this, their perfect slice of America. All gone in a blast of radiation. And now she was left with the wreckage around her. Why only her? Why hadn't she just gone with them, why _couldn't_ she just have gone with them?

She felt a hand on her shoulder and gulped past the lump in her throat, looking up to see Rachel hovering over her.

“I'm sorry,” she said softly, a look of painful sympathy on her face. “Really, I'm...I'm so sorry.”

“No, I'm...being selfish,” Max told her, shaking her head and sitting up to scoot over and grab some of the purified water cans they had brought along. “You and Chloe...you lost your parents, too.”

“But we didn't have to see them...like that,” Rachel said sadly. “We had a chance to say our goodbyes. You....”

Max just shook her head and slumped back onto her makeshift pillow.

"I miss them so much," she said, feeling tears run down her cheeks. "And...then with all this going on. Who knows what's...out there? Lisa said something about raiders. People that would hurt us and... I don't think I can do this. Rachel, I can't...I can't do this."

There was a shuffling and Rachel laid down next to her, resting her chin in her hand and propped up on her elbow.

"Look, we all feel that way right now," she said. "When Chloe and I woke up, we spent like a few hours just huddling and freaking out, waiting for someone to rescue us. When no one did, Chloe almost cried. I mean...everyone we know is...gone. There is literally no one left."

"So...what do we do?" Max asked, sitting up again. "How do we even do this?"

"We work together," Rachel said with a warm smile. "We have each other, and that's all we need. And we do what we have to. Even if...things get a little messy. We just have to survive."

"I just wanted to spend my senior year at Blackwell and learn how to be a photographer," Max sighed. "I wanted to go to college and get an art degree, maybe become the next Margaret Bourke-White. Why did everything have to go so wrong?"

"Mom always used to say that everything happens for a reason," Rachel said. "I thought it was bullshit, and kind of a lazy way to try to get me to accept the world's stupidity. But look at where we all are. It's awful and horrible and a war-torn apocalyptic wasteland. But at least we're all here together, right? I mean, what are the odds? Maybe...this is all happening for a reason, and we're part of something really great."

"Maybe," Max sighed with a wan smile at her, lying back down and staring up at her ruined ceiling. How many times had she just lain here and stared at the plaster swirls in the ceiling, listening to a holotape and thinking about nothing in particular? How many lazy, rainy afternoons had she whiled away in this very living room, sorting and re-sorting her photo albums. This living room, this house had once been her whole world. Now it was just another broken husk of forgotten memories.

"I just...wish it didn't have to happen at all," she said in a hoarse voice.

Already exhausted from her day, the dredging up of the matter of her parents was the final nail in the coffin so to speak, and as soon as Max found a relatively comfortable position, her eyes shut, and she was out, too emotionally wiped to keep herself awake any longer. Tomorrow they would get answers. Tomorrow they would fix Lisa and find out what they could about this strange new place Boston had become.

Tomorrow would come, whether she wanted it to or not, and they would deal with what it brought.

…...

Max dreamed she was on a foggy street, the road beneath her cracked into pieces and flattened right back down again. Buildings refurbished or simply built anew again loomed overhead in the surrounding mist. Wherever she was, it had been rebuilt in the wake of the apocalypse, the only sign that the Great War had ever happened being how generally crumbled everything looked. Turning, she reeled back when she saw a dead body lying on the ground, looking freshly rotten, like a corpse had started deteriorating before getting back up to try again and getting shot once more. All around her, similar figures littered the road, looking like a freshly slain horde of the zombies in those B-horror movies Dad had loved to watch late at night. All of them had been dispatched, though, and judging from the bullet holes littering the buildings and street around them, it had been a messy firefight.

“What is this place?” Max asked herself softly, not expecting anyone to respond. She was thus quite shocked when someone did.

“What's it look like?” a voice with a strong Boston accent spoke. “We're in Concord, kid.”

Max spun and saw that a woman had joined her in the street, standing where she was sure no one had been before. She was dressed in a loud blue and orange pantsuit, wearing a bright multicolored shawl around her shoulders and a matching hat that looked almost like a turban. To complete the urban gypsy look, her ears were adorned with almost comically huge hooped earrings. She was old, likely in her fifties, but a rough life had aged her even more than that, stooping her and leaving her shaking a bit on her feet.

“And who are you?” Max asked. “Is this a dream?”

“'Course it's a dream,” the woman said, sounding vaguely amused at her question. “What, you gonna sleepwalk all the way to Concord? Just watch.”

She gestured behind Max, who quickly turned and saw that there was a large figure in power armor similar to the ones she had seen outside the vault, standing in the middle of the street and raising a massive mini-gun in its hands before dropping them to its sides. A hand came up and took the helmet away, revealing the short blonde locks of Chloe, a triumphant smile on her face. She said something, but Max couldn't hear anything but a distant wind.

“Chloe...?” Max asked softly, jolting when a large crashing sound came as the ground under Chloe's feet tore open. “Chloe!”

“It's a dream, kid, she can't hear ya,” the woman said, sounding indifferent as a...creature crawled from the ground. It was massive, twice as tall as Chloe even in her armor, and vaguely reptilian, with digitigrade legs and a long swishing tail. Twin horns protruded from its head, and most alarmingly, it had long, wicked claws that it reared back and slammed down onto Chloe. Max screamed as Chloe's arms came up and tried to stop the thing, but its strength as too overpowering, and even if it couldn't crush the armor, Chloe's head was unarmored and thus unprotected as the beast gripped her entire upper body, crushing her to the point that her limbs went limp. Max couldn't seem to look away, even as Chloe's exposed head was....

“No, Chloe!” Max screamed, but even as she ran for her friend, the world around her dissolved in a cloudy mist, and it was just Max and the strange gypsy woman on a featureless white landscape. “W-what...?”

“Don't catch on quick, do ya?” the woman asked. “It's a vision, kid. I have these all the time. Not sure what you're doing here, though. You got the Sight, too?”

“A...vision?” Max asked. “That's gonna happen to Chloe?”

“'Less you do something about it, yeah,” the woman said with a shrug. “Do yourself a favor, don't fret over it. The more you try to fight these things, the more likely they are to come to pass. Just...mind yourself, is all.”

“Wait,” Max said, but she could already feel herself stirring, starting to wake up. She was losing her grip on the dream. “Who are you?”

“I'm Mama Murphy,” the gypsy woman said, and Max definitely felt more awake than asleep, her eyes screwed shut in an effort to maintain this contact. “That's what they all call me, at least. I think we'll be seeing each other soon enough.”

And then Max was awake, staring up at the patchy, busted ceiling of her living room. Sunlight was streaming in, through the windows and the roof, and Max could hear the sounds of birds chirping, bugs buzzing, and the crackle of a fire from out front.

“Max?” Chloe's voice said from the front door, and Max gasped, sitting up. Chloe's shocked expression met her own, and Max sighed out in relief. She was here, alive and well, not getting...violently crushed by some sort of demon lizard. “Yo, you okay? Bad dreams?”

“Yeah,” Max said, climbing to her feet. “Just...bad dreams.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

The journey to the Red Rocket station was about an hour's walk on foot from Sanctuary, complicated by the fact that a river cut off the small housing development from the rest of Concord. There had been a bridge, but two-hundred years of wood rot had reduced it to splinters that were mostly gone now, swept away by the currents decades ago. It had been nearly a five-minute endeavor to cross the river, but after that, it was a simple walk through a sparse forest of coniferous trees and deciduous skeletons that were just hanging on to the last of their leaves. The road was almost completely gone at this point, so they were depending on Max's Pip-Boy to guide them.

Hopefully the Red Rocket station was still there when they found it.

“Alright, what about Captain Cosmos?” Chloe asked as they strode along, having spent the better part of the last hour chatting about their favorite comic book characters. “Best radio show since the Silver Shroud.”

“Agreed up until the most recent season,” Rachel said. “A space monkey? Seriously?”

“Hey, don't you dare hate on Jangles the Moon Monkey,” Chloe insisted, leveling a stern finger at Rachel. “He's an American icon. Right, Max?”

Max glanced up, having been a bit lost in thought, and blinked a few times at Chloe.

“Um...I've always liked Mistress of Mystery,” she said. “She's a femme fatale, uses a .44 revolver, and she has no time for the Silver Shroud's male bravado.”

“She was totally crushing on Grognak in the first Unstoppables issue, though,” Rachel pointed out, which had Max shaking her head.

“That was because Grognak respected her strength and didn't treat her like a damsel in distress, like the Shroud and Captain Cosmos would,” she said. “She liked that Grognak treated her like an equal.”

“Wasn't there a one-off of them going on some adventure together?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah!” Max said, giggling a bit at the memory. “Grognak the Barbarian and the Mistress of Mystery versus AntAgonizer and the Mechanist. I actually once got Mom and Dad to read it, because they reminded me of...of Grognak and the Mistress....”

She trailed off, feeling her smile start to falter, but she simply shook herself. Nearby, Chloe hummed softly.

“I had to keep dad _away_ from my comics,” she said. “He once dressed up as the Silver Shroud for Halloween, and he was in-character for like...a week.”

“I remember that,” Max said with a quiet giggle. “He started calling his car the Shroud-Mobile, and he would pull up at school and just...shout at you, 'Come along, faithful ward!'.”

“Oh my God, that sounds amazing,” Rachel laughed, and Chloe rolled her eyes.

“My dad was such a dweeb,” she said with a fond smile.

“He was great,” Max said with a nod, Chloe snickering at the statement before slowing to a stop. The other two did as well, and Max saw it, looming through the trees. A large, stylized rocket painted a bright red, standing out like a sore thumb among the foliage.

The Red Rocket truck stop. According to the map on Max's Pip-Boy, it was supposed to be right off of a fairly well-traveled highway quite close to Concord, but...it was all just trees. Max glanced between her two companions, and Chloe shrugged, drawing her pistol and moving forward toward the station. Max and Rachel had their own weapons out and flanked her, moving among the trunks. Their footsteps crunched quietly through the ancient, pulpy mulch on the forest floor but they likely only seemed loud in the otherwise utter silence of the morning.

Soon, they emerged into a clearing, and the actual Red Rocket station came into view, though it wasn't at all what Max was expecting. Where she had been picturing the dilapidated remains of an old truck stop, she saw that the place was nearly entirely refurbished and had been given a fresh coat of paint. The building itself was dominated by a large garage, which was currently thrown open to let in the morning sun. There was also a small dining area attached beyond the garage, and jutting out of one of the exterior walls was a metal overhang supported by four gray metal girders stylized to look like the smoke trail of the eponymous red rocket as it “took off”. The only feature that Max didn't remember were the twin turrets stationed around the entrance, chugging along and tracking left and right to look for intruders, she supposed.

“It looks...brand new,” Rachel observed, slowly lowering her weapon. “Someone took a lot of time to clean this place up.”

“But who?” Max asked.

“And why?” Chloe added.

“Well...we could go ask,” Rachel said. “Those turrets would have probably opened fire on us by now if their IFF chips were set to just track moving targets.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Chloe asked, sounding slightly impressed.

“Those are RobCo MK I 5.56mm automated machine gun turrets,” Rachel told her. “I did a report on AI's role in the future of warfare for Mr. Jackson's class. Aced it, by the way.”

“Oh, that,” Chloe muttered. “I just wrote 'War is hell, it killed my dad.' Got excused from the assignment.”

“Could we focus?” Max asked softly. “We need to get Lisa a new body. What's the plan here?”

“You know, standing out in the open like this is probably the worst way to discuss the plan of approach,” a voice said behind them, causing them all to jump in unison and spin on the spot. Chloe had her gun out and pointed at the newcomer, a blond man with tan skin and roguish smile, but she slowly lowered it at the sight of his bulky-looking body armor and the rifle clutched in his hands. He didn't have it pointed at them, but his finger hovered over the trigger.

“I'm Al,” he said by way of introduction. “Why don't you three come inside?”

…...

Inside the Red Rocket truck stop, Al had really tidied things up. It looked cleaner than it had even _before_ the war. The tile floor gleamed a bright blue, and the walls shone white, almost reflective in the morning sunlight. It also smelled deliciously of food, real food. Two days of nothing but vegetables and watery broth had already begun to take a toll, and the moment she smelled cooking meat, Max's stomach growled with a ravenous need. Al noticed and nodded toward the small kitchen tucked away in the back.

“Hungry?”

“Yes,” they all three responded with various degrees of fervency.

“I got breakfast cooking,” he said. “Steak strips, eggs, home-fried tatoes, and cornbread all sound good?”

“Marry me,” Chloe said, staring at him with a wide-eyed gaze. Al only chuckled and gestured to the small bar in the dining area, which had three refurbished stools sitting in front of it.

“Have a seat,” he said, strolling past the bar and to the small kitchenette. He twisted a knob on the stove that he had somehow managed to shove into position before crossing to a fridge that actually worked, judging from the faint hum coming from it as he opened it.

“How did you get all of this working again?” Rachel asked. “I mean...back there, Sanctuary Hills was totaled.”

“Well, yeah, but this is out in the sticks,” Al said with an airy wave. “Frontier land. Up in Capital City, it's not bad. And there's Stadium City, southeast of here. There are places all over, you just gotta find them.”

A hot sizzling sound met their ears, and soon enough, the small kitchen area was filled with the scent of cooking meat, making Max's mouth water. Al got out a large metal spatula and poked at a few things on the stovetop before turning and making his way over to the little counter.

“So,” he said, gesturing at their jumpsuits. “Vault 111. Which one was that?”

“The one after 110?” Chloe suggested, and Al snorted, shaking his head.

“These vaults all had a thing, a shtick,” he said. “Like, one was a breeding ground for infectious diseases, one you had to vote each year to send someone off to their death in order to get your food, that sorta thing. What was yours?”

“Cryogenic freezing,” Max said. “They...stuck us all in cryo pods and froze us for two-hundred years.”

“That so?” Al said, looking thoughtful for a moment before blinking as realization struck. His eyes wend wide, and he examined them all in turn. “No shit. So you were all frozen? For two hundred years?”

“They stuck us in right as the bombs fell,” Max told him. “No warning or anything. They just...froze us.”

“Most of the pods had failed by the time we got out,” Rachel said. “It's just us three.”

“Yeah, Vault-Tec wasn't really good at thinking long-term,” Al said, leaning on the counter and reaching for a bottle of Nuka-Cola he'd apparently left there before. “Oh, uh...you guys want some? All I got left is Nuka-Cherry”

They all three nodded, and he stood, making his way back to the fridge. He paused for a moment to prod at the pan of home fries and dump some scrambled eggs into another skillet before returning with three ice cold bottles of Nuka-Cherry.

“Is Nuka-Cola a thing again?” Chloe asked, uncapping her own bottle. Max struggled for a moment with hers before Chloe simply reached over and popped the top in seconds, winking at her.

“It never stopped being a thing, actually,” Al told them. “Right before the war, the Nuka-Cola company ramped their production up to eleven, cranked out enough bottles that the company probably would've gone bankrupt if they'd kept going. People are still finding 'em everywhere. That bottle is damn near as old as you are.”

“How is it not pure syrup by now?” Rachel asked, swirling the cola in the bottle and eyeing it suspiciously.

“Some kinda additive they put in it,” Al shrugged. “Still tastes fresh, even after all this time. Even better when it's chilled.”

Max looked over to see Chloe taking a drink, smacking her lips briefly before her eyebrows raised appreciatively. “Not bad,” she said, taking another swig. Satisfied, Max took a drink of her own, finding it just as fresh as she remembered from before the war.

“You know, some of the lesser-developed areas consider those bottle caps a form of currency,” Al said, pointing to their discarded lids. “You might wanna hang onto them just in case. The Commonwealth just recently introduced an actual currency, but most places'll take that _or_ caps.”

He excused himself again to tend to breakfast, leaving the trio with a bit to process. The more Al told them, the more questions he opened up. Was the Commonwealth just the new name for the greater Boston area? What were these cities he was alluding to? How exactly did he even know all of this?

“Alright, you three, breakfast is on.”

He set before them three plates of food, each bearing a hunk of steak, a pile of scrambled eggs, a scoop of home-fried potato/tomato hybrid, and a slice of toast that looked to have been made from cornbread.

And Max found herself musing that questions could wait until after breakfast.

…...

“I was a courier, in the Mojave area,” Al told them, passing a wet plate to Max, who toweled it dry and sat it on the kitchen counter. “Out in Nevada.”

“Jeez, that place was already a wasteland _before_ the apocalypse,” Chloe muttered, and Al chuckled at that.

“You are not wrong,” he said. “But mankind bounced back. Built Vegas back up, called it New Vegas. Hell, you can barely tell the difference anymore.”

“I've always wanted to go to Vegas,” Chloe said.

“It's something else,” Al nodded. “They might even like a Pre-War perspective. Help them recapture some of the glitz Vegas used to have.”

“Hey, a job's a job,” Chloe told him.

“So,” Al said once the last dish was washed and dried. He toweled his hands off and tossed the cloth onto a counter at random, fixing his hands on his hips and staring at the trio. “You mentioned a friend that needed a new body? Lisa?”

“Yeah,” Max said, reaching into the bag she'd brought along and pulling out Lisa's AI core. “She was my family's Miss Nanny robot before...the war. She's pretty much...all I have left except for Chloe.”

She felt Chloe's hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently, and she relaxed a bit into the contact, leaning back and resting against her friend.

“Well, I can probably fix up an old protectron I've had sitting around in the garage,” Al said, staring down at the core. “Only problem is, the circuit board is shot to hell, and I don't have a replacement.”

“So...back to square one?” Rachel asked. Al was silent for a moment, still staring thoughtfully down at the core in Max's hand.

“Maybe not,” he said. “Some folks set up shop down the hill, started clearing out some rubble and building up a settlement. I haven't really visited, but one of the traveling merchants that comes through mentioned they have an awful lot of electronic equipment loaded in their truck. Maybe you can convince them to part with a RobCo PTN-3750 CNU circuit board.”

“...Uh...might need to write that one down,” Chloe said after a short pause. “But yeah, let's do this.”

…...

“You know, we've been doing a lot of walking in the past two days,” Chloe said, sounding a bit sullen as they picked their way down a hill that had once been a road, bound for nearby Concord and the settlement that had apparently recently sprung up there. Al hadn't known much, only that there weren't very many of them and they were apparently dismantling the decrepit buildings and salvaging construction materials, rebuilding them into functioning shelters. And there was a technology expert among them, it seemed.

“A little exercise never killed anyone,” Rachel insisted. “C'mon, we have to fix Lisa.”

“Yeah, that's true,” Chloe said with a smile over at Max, ambling her way to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “How you feeling, Max? You've been quiet.”

“I'm just...taking this all in,” Max sighed. She was quiet for a moment, neither Rachel nor Chloe prodding her. A few silent moments later, she spoke. “Mom and I would sometimes go shopping in Concord. We'd park the car and just go walking through the downtown area. There was this one little coffee shop that had these amazing turnovers. And then we would go to this little photography boutique that had all of this amazing equipment that I could never dream of buying, but the owner knew I loved taking pictures, so he'd let me at least try the stuff out.”

“Sounds like a cool guy,” Rachel said. “You and your mom must have had a lot of fun.”

“Yeah,” Max nodded as they reached the edge of Concord, taking in the sight of the crumbled remains that were all that was left of most of the buildings. “Yeah, we did.”

The sprawling city of Concord had definitely seen better days. Anything that had been constructed out of brick or wood was simply a heap of crumbling mortar, splinters, and concrete, several piles even covering the remains of entire roads. There were a few metal buildings left that were apparently from before the Great War, though those were little more than sheds and shacks. Max could see where the new settlers had been salvaging bricks and rebuilding them into proper buildings, or at least one building that looked new among the remains.

There was also gunfire.

“Hear that?” Chloe asked, and the other two nodded. “Over there.”

She pointed toward the twisted remains of a metal shed on the outskirts, and they hurried over to crouch near the wreckage. Max reached for the gun at her waist, twitching the safety off and taking a deep breath as she peered around the shed. A long side road stretched out in front of her and led toward the building she had seen earlier. Something very heavy had packed down the rubble and stone into a semi-solid path. Along the road, a few bodies littered the ground, pools of blood beginning to form beneath them. Max's hand shook for a moment, but she took a deep breath and forced herself to steady it. It was the apocalypse; people were probably going to die. She just had to make sure she wasn't one of them, along with Chloe and Rachel.

“This way, the road is clear,” she said, leading the other two out from behind the shack and down the road. Further along, they came upon the reconstructed building, a three-story number made of refurbished brick and wood. A massive clearing had been flattened out in front of it, a whole block of buildings cleaned out completely in what was probably the beginnings of a Main Street. As Max drew closer, she saw that it was swarming with men in what looked like a modern take on medieval armor, complete with small horns on their helmets that made them look like post-apocalyptic Vikings. All of them were carrying various firearms that they were firing at the building. Max saw a lone figure on the third floor, crouching on a small balcony and firing back. The loud buzzing sound of a capacitor discharging a microfusion cell told Max that whoever it was was armed with a laser rifle.

“What do you see?” Chloe asked from right behind her, causing Max to jolt briefly. She was like a ninja.

“Four or five guys,” she said. “They look...like zombies.”

“What, really?” Chloe scooted closer and peered right over Max's shoulder. “Wow, that's...messed up.”

The five men in the road looked like burn victims that had escaped from intensive care a bit too soon. Their skin was heavily scarred and covered in sores, and their eyes looked hollow and black. What hair they had was thin and patchy, and though Max couldn't make out words, they shouted to each other in raspy, growling voices, like even their vocal cords hadn't escaped the damage. One drew close enough that Max could hear him as he fired a series of shots from his pistol.

“This is our land, smoothskin!” he shouted at the man on the balcony. “Your kind aren't welcome here!”

He ran his clip dry and cursed, turning to look for cover as he popped the empty clip out of his pistol and reached for a new one. He was in the middle of reloading when his eyes landed on the trio of girls.

“Whatta we got here?”he smirked, raising the pistol, and Max froze, fear gripping her as she stared directly down the barrel of the gun. There was no fight or flight instinct, as she had always imagined there might be if she were ever in this situation. Most action stars managed to smack the gun away or dive aside in time for the shot. But when confronted with the real thing, Max could only stare dumbly as the ghoulish man's finger squeezed the trigger.

“Max!” Chloe's voice echoed from a great distance as Max felt herself yanked back. As she fell, Chloe leapt at the man, and a gunshot sounded. Max saw a hole appear in the back of Chloe's jumpsuit, a spray of red following behind it, and Chloe pressed her gun against the man's neck as she fell against him.

_Koom!_

“Chloe!”

Another gunshot sounded, the gunman falling as Chloe crumpled. Max sobbed out Chloe's name once more, holding her hand out toward her friend, the last remnant of her old life, the only semblance of normalcy in this world. She couldn't lose her, not Chloe. Not her, too.

As Chloe fell, time slowed, but Max wasn't imagining it. She watched as Chloe froze mid-fall, her face frozen in shock and terror, before Max felt her outstretched hand grip onto something, something that wasn't there but was still very much present. Somehow, she knew she was able to pull this thing, whatever it was, and she did so, watching as time seemed to spin back around her, rewinding before her very eyes. A rushing sound filled her ears as the bullet sped back on its path, through Chloe and back to the man's gun, the hole closing up behind it. Chloe and the gunman separated, Chloe backing away and resuming her position behind Max while the shooter's hand reached up and pulled the full clip from the gun, tucking it back in his belt. Just as the empty clip was flying back toward his gun, Max released her grip with a gasp, drawing the gunman's attention.

“Whatta we got - ?”

_Koom!_

Max stared down her arm at the gun's sights, the other supporting the weapon from underneath as she watched a hole bloom in the man's skull, his gun falling to the ground shortly before he did as well.

“Not. Chloe.”

“Whoa, Max, that was ice cold,” Chloe said, and Max breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of her voice. She took a deep breath, peering around the battlefield, and saw that the other shooters had heard her gunshot.

“C'mon, we have company,” she said. Across the street, there was a military cargo truck parked near the door of the building, the rear door thrown open to reveal crates of what appeared to be salvage. Whoever lived here had probably just gotten back from a scavenging trip, only to be attacked by these...zombies. These people that would simply kill Max, kill Chloe, kill anyone just because they wanted to.

Not today.

There were four of them outside the building, two carrying pistols, one with a shotgun, and one with a hunting rifle. Max saw Chloe raise her gun and fire on the guy with the hunting rifle, leaving her to dash for cover behind a crate sitting on the ground near the back of the truck. A trail of bullets followed in her wake, pinging against the brick wall behind her and shattering a window. She dropped to the ground behind the crate, taking a deep breath and waiting. She heard a last few shots before a clicking sound came, followed by a swear as the guy dashed for cover. Out of ammo. Max took another breath and stood, raising the gun and watching him run away.

 _Let's see if it happens again_ , she mused, flexing her fingers and grabbing onto...the timestream? Reality itself? Now that she had done it once, it seemed like it was always there, just within reach. The familiar rushing sound returned, and she watched her foe retrace his steps in reverse. With a flex of her fingers, he began to zoom along his path, raising the gun again. Just as a curl of smoke wafted back toward the barrel, Max released her hold on time, hearing him try in vain to fire a last couple bullets, but Max was already there, aiming at him.

_Click-click-_

_Koom!_

“Dad always said, don't forget to count your shots,” she told him as he fell to the ground. There was a muted click, the sound of a revolver chambering a round, and Max froze as she felt something press against her head.

“He probably should've told you to be more aware of your surroundings,” a growling voice said. “Don't move. Any of you. We could use a few more comfort girls back at our barracks. I'm gonna walk you to the truck, you're gonna get in, and - “

Taking hold of the timestream was a lot easier this time, but the pressure on her head seemed a little more intense as she rewound time for the third time in a short period. Was this even a short period to use this strange new power? She didn't know whatever rules came with it. Where had it even come from?

No, Max could ponder questions later. She had to save all three of them from becoming zombie rape-bait, something she had never thought she would have found herself needing to do.

The pressure left her head as she released her hold, raising her gun and firing in the direction the man had come from. She was rewarded with a grunt and turned to see the last of the zombie men falling to the ground with a bullet in his neck. Shaking herself a bit, she had to take a moment to reorient herself. Doing this too many times in quick succession had left her head feeling a bit wobbly.

“Max, that was so cool!” Chloe said, running over and hugging Max tightly. Max shut her eyes and let herself sink into her friend's embrace, resting a moment. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just...need a moment,” Max said. She took a deep breath and stood, peering up at Chloe. “Are _you_ okay?”

“I just watched my best friend totally badass her way through a gunfight,” Chloe said. “You were like...shoom, shoom, 'I'm here, I'm there, bitch I don't even gotta _look_ at you,' _bam_! How did you do all that?”

“I...something happened when that first guy found us - “

She was cut off by a voice from above them, and they all looked up to see the man from the balcony, now directly above them. Unlike the others, this guy's chocolate-colored skin was in perfect shape, his eyes wide and contrasting starkly. He wore a duster and clutched what looked like a tricorn hat right out of the American revolution to his head. Max serious doubted such a thing had lasted several hundred years; maybe he had had it made himself?

“Hey, you three!” he shouted. “Up here! There are more of the bastards in the building! I have a group of settlers holed up in here. We've barricaded the door, but they're almost through! Grab what you want from the salvage truck and help! Please!”

“Shit, c'mon,” Chloe said, immediately hurrying to climb into the truck. Max clambered to follow, standing stooped a bit in the truck's cramped interior. Inside, she saw the crates she had spotted earlier were branded with the iron star of a military supply crate. They were also filled with guns, ammo, tactical body armor, all in near perfect condition. “Jeez, were they going to war?”

Max couldn't make heads or tails of much of this stuff, but she needn't have bothered; Chloe dropped a cloth harness of sorts lined with ballistic plating over her, strapping it in place over her vault suit. She then tossed Max what looked like riot gear kneepads next, and Max yanked them on, managing to strap on a pocketed belt that Chloe also lobbed at her as she herself donned a set of what looked like military-issue battle armor. Nearby, Rachel had found a makeshift metal breastplate not unlike the ones the zombie guys had been wearing, coupling that with leather pads on her elbows and knees and leather guards on her shins and wrists. She raided an ammo chest, snagging up a few 10mm clips and tossing them to Max, who caught them and stuffed them into a pocket of her belt.

“Ohohoho, yeah,” Max heard Chloe croon, and she turned to see her best friend drawing out a double-barrel shotgun, flipping open the break action and finding it already loaded. She whipped it back shut and slung the gun over her shoulder, snagging some ammo and tucking it into her belt. “Momma's gonna put some bastards down with this.”

“Just watch the kickback on that thing,” Rachel said, drawing out an aluminum baseball bat. “You'll dislocate your shoulder if you're not careful.”

“A baseball bat?” Chloe asked with a nod at the item in question.

“And a revolver,” Rachel replied, withdrawing the gun in question as she spoke. “Snagged it off of one of those corpse guys. He had a whole bunch of ammo for it, too. I figure I'll bash their heads if they get too close, right?”

“I like it,” Chloe said as they hurried back out of the truck, hopping to the ground and heading for the door to the building. “Max'll pick 'em off from far off, I'll blast 'em if they get close, and Rachel can smack 'em if they reach us.”

“Count bad guys, memorize defining features, don't forget them, don't stop until you get to zero,” Max breathed out, and Chloe and Rachel fixed her with twin curious looks. “Dad...used to talk in his sleep.”

They said nothing, Chloe placing a hand on the door handle and yanking it outward. Max peeked in first, hearing distant gunfire from upstairs. The ground floor was large and open, sunlight streaming in through the open windows to light a large staircase that led up to the higher levels. There were a few doors off of the ground floor, leading to who-knew-where. More concerning, there were two zombie men flanking the stairs, wearing the same metal armor and horned helmets as the guys from outside. They jumped at the sudden intrusion, but Max had her gun up and trained on the one on the left before they could even take a step.

_Koom!_

He jolted backward as the bullet hit the small bit of exposed flesh above his breastplate, landing and not getting up. His partner paused to chance a look at him, long enough for Chloe to hurry up and crack his face with the butt of her rifle. For good measure, Max hurried forward and shot him square in the forehead. Wordlessly, they moved up the stairs, pausing when a crack of gunfire sounded behind them.

_Krack!_

Max looked back and saw Rachel lowering her revolver, a third zombie guy that had been lurking out of sight in one of the rooms crumpling to the ground. She smiled at Max, who smirked back and continued their progress up the stairs. They arrived on a wooden landing that stretched back into a hallway wide enough for the three of them to walk elbow-to-elbow. At the far end of the hallway, past more doors, another staircase led up and out of sight. Max gestured at the other two to hug the walls as she saw two pairs of feet come into view, hurriedly making their way down the stairs. She slunk back next to Chloe and waited.

“I thought we got all of 'em,” one of the new arrivals said, his growl of a voice indicating him as another zombie guy, as was his partner, presumably.

“Could be they had backup,” the other said. “Or just bleeding hearts passing through, trying to - “

_Koom! Krack!_

Max got the left one in the neck, watching him scrabble at the bullet wound before collapsing in a heap. Rachel's shot landed right in the middle of the other one's forehead, which Rachel seemed pleasantly surprised at.

“Damn, I'm getting good at this,” she said, and Max snorted softly.

“You guys need to stop kicking so much ass, I wanna use my shotgun,” Chloe huffed petulantly.

“You are ridiculous,” Max said with a rueful smile, leading the way down the hallway. “C'mon, I think this is the room they're holed up in.”

“Lead the way, Captain Max,” Chloe said with a smile.

Max crept up the stairs, which ended on another landing, this one much smaller, only just big enough for the three of them to fit. There was an ornate door, which bore a number of scuff marks and bullet holes, evidence of several attempts at forced entry. Someone had probably barricaded it from the other side. Max raised a fist and knocked on it a few times.

“Hey, it's us,” she said. “The girls from out front.”

After a moment, they heard the shuffling of something heavy being moved across the floor, then the metallic scraping of several locks being undone before the door finally opened, revealing the dark-skinned man from earlier and a room full of people huddling in chairs or in corners away from the windows. The room itself appeared to be a simple office comprised of a desk, a basic office chair, and a few couches along the walls. Max counted about five people total, including the man at the door.

“Wow, you work fast,” he said in a smooth voice, stepping back to let them inside. “You got all of them?”

“Unless any of 'em chickened out and ran,” Chloe said.

“That'd be about the first good luck we've had,” the guy said, moving over to the desk to set down his weapon, which Max observed was some sort of crank-action laser rifle. The way he had used it before suggested he was very familiar with the weapon, despite how impractical it looked. “I'm Preston Garvey, with the Minutemen.”

“I'm Max,” Max introduced herself. “That's Chloe and Rachel.”

“'Sup?” Chloe greeted him.

“Nice to meet you all,” Preston said. “Really, it is. We were in a tight spot there.”

“You couldn't have used your neat laser gun?” Chloe asked, nodding at the crank-laser in his hands. “Thing looks like it could pack a wallop.”

“I had to make sure the others were safe,” Preston said, gesturing at the people in the room. “These people aren't combat trained, and they've already been through hell anyway.”

“What happened?” Rachel asked with a look around at everyone.

“About a month ago, our settlement in Jamaica Plains was overrun,” Preston said. “Ghouls. We settled in Lexington, but then these crazies found us.”

“Who even are they?” Chloe questioned him with a gesture at the stairwell, in the general direction of the .

“They call themselves the Gauls,” Preston said. “I guess they're named after some ancient Iron Age Celtic civilization. Rumor is they just took the name of the old Boston basketball team and ran with it.”

“And why do they look like that?” Chloe asked. “All...corpsey.”

“You've never seen a ghoul before?” Preston asked, looking perplexed. “What rock have you been living under?”

“A vault door,” Chloe said flatly. “We just got out.”

“That would explain the suits,” Preston said with a wide-eyed look at them all in turn. “Wow, this must be a bit of a shock.”

“Only slightly,” Rachel said. Max, meanwhile, drifted away from the conversation, toward the other occupants of the room. Besides a brunet boy at the desk tapping away at a computer terminal, there was a couple of Asiatic descent, though Max was horrible at discerning anything more specific than that, and there was an old woman in a loud pantsuit and...a turban –

“Wait!”Max gasped softly. “You!”

“Well, nice to finally see you on the physical plane, kid,” Mama Murphy said, looking just as she had in Max's dream the night before. “I was starting to think you were just a figment of my imagination. Thought I'd have to see a therapist.”

“You're...Mama Murphy,” Max said, and the old woman rolled her eyes.

“Catch on quick, huh?” she asked, staring at Max for a long moment. “Hm, you got...something about you. Something powerful latched onto you since last time, something that's gonna change the fate of the Commonwealth. Maybe the whole world.”

“You...how do you know about...?”

“I got the Sight, kid,” she said. “It's hard to describe, really. I just see stuff, stuff that's not there but will be or...stuff that's there but can't be seen. Like on you. You got something big on you. A storm. The tides of time are...swirling around you, like a vortex.”

“But what does it mean?” Max asked, unable to keep a hint of desperation out of her voice. “I-I saved Chloe, and...what else? What am I supposed to – “

“Preston!”

Max turned to see that the boy at the desk, who looked to be even a bit younger than Max now that she got a good look at him, was gesturing at a small bank of video consoles against the wall, between two windows. On the screen, security footage showed more of the Gauls, unmistakable in their armor, making their way up the main street. In the lead, one of them had armor with numerous decorations and ribbons, likely some sort of commander.

“Damn it,” Preston said. “It's Brennus. I didn't think he'd make an appearance after last time.”

“You know that guy?” Chloe asked as Max made her way over.

“That's Brennus, the leader of the Gauls in this area,” Preston said. “He's been after us since Lexington. We think he's looking for someone.”

“He's probably after me, Preston,” Mama Murphy said from her place on the couch. “After my Sight.”

“Well, if he is, we can't let him have it,” Preston said, turning to the trio. “I know you've already helped us out once, but we need you again. Please, if we can clear these guys out and take out Brennus, we might stand a chance at being able to settle in this area.”

“I dunno, that guy's got a lot of guns,” Chloe said, peering closely at the screen. “There are like a dozen guys with him, too. We're pretty good at this, but we're not quite _that_ good _.”_

“Preston, what about the suit?” the boy at the computer asked, peering up from his computer console for the first time since they had entered the room. His eyes—round and brown like a puppy's—shot wide when they landed on Max, his mouth falling open slightly. “Um...there's suit...um, a suit of power armor on the roof of the building.”

“Nice,” Chloe said. “What kind?”

“Mostly series T-45,” the boy said, his gaze lingering on Max for a moment before he glanced back at Chloe. “I did just fix up the right arm and leg with T-51 plating, and the chest has been upgraded to B-grade. There's also a minigun.”

“I'm in,” Chloe said immediately. “Minigun. Let's go, I'm ready.”

“Is the fusion core still in the armor, Warren?” Preston asked, and the boy named Warren nodded.

“I was doing some diagnostics on it earlier,” he said. “I...even got the radio working, so you can communicate with it using the transceiver. It's raring to go.”

“Here,” Preston said, holding his rifle out to Max, who took it. “No need to reload. Just crank the capacitor and fire.”

“Oh,” Max said as the rifle was pressed into her hands. “Um...thank you.”

“Don't thank me until you've saved us,” Preston said, though he wore a small smile as he spoke. “Roof access is through the other door over there.”

He pointed to a door past Mama Murphy, along the same wall as the one they entered, and Max led the way, passing by the couch where the gypsy lady sat.

“Good luck, kid,” she said as they made their way through the door. A narrow, claustrophobic staircase greeted them, leading the cramped way up to the roof. Max pushed open the roof access door with a groaning creek, and they stepped out onto the metal plating of the rooftop, their footsteps clunking softly.

“Whoa,” Chloe sighed out appreciatively, doing a slow spin on the spot to take in the sight of Massachusetts sprawling around them. “Nice view.”

Up here, Max could see far and wide, all across Concord and beyond. The sun was high in the sky, the Boston Commonwealth gleaming a gray-green through the distant fog. It was beautiful, in a way, and up here, the crumbling buildings and wreckage of civilization disappeared amidst trees, grass, rolling hills. The world hadn't been destroyed, at least not completely. Sooner or later, Max figured, something would always grow back.

“Oh, there it is, there's my new best friend,” Max heard Chloe say, turning her attention away from her ponderings and back to the situation at hand. Chloe was crossing the rooftop, bound for a towering set of power armor that looked not unlike the ones Max had seen guarding the vault so long ago. Next to it sat a large metal crate with the aforementioned minigun and transceiver perched on top of it. Chloe uttered a noise of relish as she hurried toward the suit, all but running across the rooftop.

Years before the Great War, the military had been unsatisfied with the lack of mobility infantry tanks had had. Sure, they had been fast and capable of dishing out damage, but they had been matched too evenly with what the Chinese forces had had to offer. America had needed an edge. And that edge had come in the form of the West Tek Research Facility's T-45 power armor. Capable of withstanding everything short of a full-scale ballistic bombardment (and later models had boasted resistance even to such damage), the armor was nothing less than a tank shaped like a person. Dad had been the leader of a power-armored fireteam, unofficially dubbed the Four Horsemen. He had even once earned a commendation for his skill as a power armor pilot.

“Chloe, do you have any idea what you're doing in that thing?” Rachel asked as Chloe circled the armor.

“Kinda,” Chloe replied with a shrug, reaching up to twist the release valve on the back of the suit. With a soft, popping hiss, the armor's plating released and folded away to reveal the padded interior where the pilot was meant to go. “Dad piloted one of these babies in the war. Grenadier Rifleman. He made the big explosions.”

“Okay, but did he ever tell _you_ much about how to actually pilot one of them?” Rachel asked, only becoming more visibly nervous as the armor closed up. When Chloe spoke next, her voice was now distorted by the suit's helmet.

“Rach, it'll be fine,” she said, flexing her arms and taking a few steps that caused the roof to vibrate a bit under Max's feet. “Hah, this feels fucking amazing! Max, do I look awesome!?”

“So awesome,” Max said with a smile, picking up the transceiver and holding it aloft so Chloe could see it. “Don't whip your arms or legs around too fast. Let the armor move _for_ you and not just _with_ you. I'm gonna give this to Rachel so she can be your spotter, and I'll give you covering fire.”

“Wow, Major Max with the strategy,” Chloe said, and Max could just imagine her smile behind the helmet as she sprang a clumsy salute, her hand pinging against her helmet. “Yes, Ma'am.”

She turned and gripped the minigun, hefting it easily and making her way to the edge of the building with a series of muted mechanical whirs as her armor flexed and moved. Max and Rachel tailed her to the edge, watching as she leapt off. There was a moment of utter silence as she fell like a rock, then an earth-shaking impact when she landed.

“I am the instrument of your doom!” Chloe shouted, and Max heard the quiet mechanical hum of her minigun winding up before unleashing a barrage of bullets that sprayed the oncoming line of Gauls. “Look upon me and despair!”

“Definitely been reading too much Silver Shroud,” Rachel muttered with a shake of her head, speaking into the transceiver. “Chloe, guy with a shotgun on your six. Max, how do you know so much about power armor?”

“My dad was tapped to give a presentation about it,” Max told her, cranking the laser musket and taking aim. She lined up the iron sights and fired, watching a distant Gaul warrior fall to the ground. Below, Chloe spun and backhanded the attacker with the shotgun, sending him flying a good five feet into the side of a nearby building. Already, half of the Gaul forces were down or injured, the minigun a destructive sight to behold.

“Maybe you should be down there in the armor,” Rachel said with a grin, turning back to the transceiver. “Chloe, the leader guy is trying to flank you. Watch your back. West street.”

“I don't think I could really utilize power armor as well as Chloe,” Max said, cranking the capacitor on the gun and taking aim on another Gaul, this one camped on a rooftop and taking aim at Chloe in turn. She fired.

_K-chnk!_

The Gaul crumpled and fell right off the rooftop and into the street, landing near Chloe, who had spun and simply smacked Brennus with the barrel of the gun elbowing him to the ground and taking up a dropped shotgun with one hand.

“Fuck you, zombie,” she said, her voice coming out of the transceiver. She fired the shotgun, and Max was glad she was so far away, but even then, the large red smear that appeared on the street was...unpleasant to think about.

“Fuck yeah!” Chloe said over the transceiver, turning toward Max and Rachel and raising the minigun triumphantly over her head. Max began to feel a bit nervous as she lowered it, reaching for her helmet and tugging it from her head. Without the transceiver, her voice was now much more distant as she spoke. “Did you guys see that shit!?”

“Oh, no,” Max said, realizing what she was seeing. “No, Chloe!”

“What's the matter?” Rachel asked, peering around the street. “Max, they're all taken care of.”

Max turned to answer, but they both jumped as a massive crashing sound came from the other end of the street, a sound of ripping and tearing metal that groaned before the street split apart, bursting from the ground. It looked like a sewer pipe had burst open, but not of its own accord. The massive reptilian beast from Max's dreams was now very much real, crawling from the hole and bearing down on Chloe, who raised her gun. She was too late, though, as the creature snagged her entire upper body in its claws, which sank right through the exposed flesh of her head.

“Oh, God, Chloe!” Rachel shrieked, and Max quickly shot both hands out, grabbing a hold of the time stream.

The familiar rushing filled her ears, everything shimmering around her as she pulled. The squeeze on her brain was familiar and a bit more intense but bearable now that she was focused on a goal. The lizard thing's clawed hand pulled away, and it began to stalk backward toward its den, climbing back in and seeming to reach up and pull the metal of the sewer pipe back down, the pavement closing neatly over the hole. Max gave herself a little extra time, watching Chloe put her helmet back on and raise the minigun above her head before she let go, setting things back in motion. She had scarcely done so before grabbing the transceiver from Rachel's hands.

“Chloe, move it, back to the building!” she shouted, and Chloe paused in her celebration, looking up toward Max.

“Max, wha – “

“Move it!” Max screamed as the familiar rumbling crash came. “Go, get back here!”

Chloe was headstrong, but she wasn't stupid, and thankfully, she understood the urgency in Max's voice. This time, as the horned beast emerged, Chloe was well out of its reach, though she got too close to the building soon enough, out of Max's line of sight.

She hated not being able to see Chloe.

“Chloe, where are you?” Max asked into the transceiver, watching the creature take off after her. Despite its size, it was quick, dodging a stream of minigun fire that came from the bottom floor of the building by zipping left and right with alarming speed, forcing Chloe to attempt to track its movements.

“I'm inside,” Chloe said as the creature prowled down a side alley down the street, hiding out of reach of Chloe's gun. “Holy shit, Max, what is that thing!?”

“I don't know, but we should take it out,” Max said, cranking her rifle and taking aim. She lined up a shot and fired at the thing's head, but it didn't really do much more than make it aware of her presence. It fixed beady eyes on her and loosed a roar that made Max's stomach drop. Darting from cover, it tore toward the building, and Max hurriedly cranked another shot.

“Chloe, it's coming at us!” Rachel shouted into the radio. “I bet it can climb, too!”

“On it!” Chloe said, and Max saw her dash back into the street, lobbing something at the beast. She heard a concussive blast and realized Chloe had to have gotten a grenade or two from the truck. “Hey, ugly! You're not done with me yet!”

She leveled the minigun at it, unloading a stream of bullets, and the creature snarled as it rounded on her, strafing right and circling her in a flash. It raised a claw, but Max was ready, raising her own hand and pulling him back along the timestream.

“Chloe, on your left!” she said into the radio, cranking her rifle and holding it up as Chloe spun to intercept the creature, smacking it across the face with her gun. Max fired on its belly, which was pale and lacked a covering of thick hide, and she was rewarded with a massive red welt and an angry snarl from the beast. It once again took off for the building, bounding along the street, but Chloe rushed to keep up, elbow-checking it and sending it off-course enough to give it pause. Max cranked another shot and took aim, carefully lining up a shot at its leg. She fired, missed, and quickly rewound to line up the same shot. The second time, it struck true, and the beast stumbled roaring in earnest as it hobbled on one good leg.

“Yeah, you fucked with the wrong bad bitches!” Chloe said, dropping another grenade and hurrying away. It detonated, tearing apart the beast's legs and ripping its belly to shreds. If anything, it just seemed to get angrier, loosing a shrieking roar and making one last bound for Chloe on its hobbled legs. Still screaming at her, the beast was dumbfounded when Chloe rammed the barrel of her gun _into_ its mouth, the hum of the minigun powering up a background to her next words.

“Eat shit, salsa-for-brains.”

The minigun fired, and the beast crumpled to the ground as a spray of bullets ripped a hole directly through the back of its skull, Chloe unloading the remainder of the clip before she would stop. Finally, she simply let the minigun drop to the ground, the sound of her heavy breathing carrying through the radio. A short moment later, she pumped her fists triumphantly in the air, doing a little circle around the creature as she continued to punch the sky.

“USA! USA! USA!”

“We're never gonna hear the end of this,” Rachel said with a shake of her head.

“No, she'll be bragging about this until the day she dies,” Max agreed, smiling fondly at her friend.

…...

Preston and the others were already out front when Max and Rachel made it to the bottom, Chloe having exited the power armor. Other than a small scrape on her cheek and a bruise forming over her left eye, she looked none the worse for wear, so Max didn't feel out of line tackling her in a hug, squeezing her and holding on tightly.

“Chloe....”

“I'm fine, Max,” Chloe said, quickly returning the embrace and nuzzling into Max's hair. “I'm alright. That was sick, though, right? Am I a badass now?”

“You were already a badass,” Max told her. “Now you're a _total_ badass.”

“Oh, I like it,” Chloe said, slowly releasing Max enough that she could at least peer over her head and speak to the others. “So, the circuit board?”

“Here we go,” the boy named Warren said, emerging from the back of the truck. He spotted Max in Chloe's arms and froze for half a second before letting a sigh and shaking his head. “Yeah, uh...RobCo PTN-3750 CNU circuit board. Works with any third-generation Protectron. You know, if you wanted, I could cobble some spare parts together, get a Mr. Handy frame working. You know...if the Protectron thing doesn't work out.”

“You'd do that?” Max asked, turning in Chloe's embrace to face Warren. “That would be really cool. Thank you.”

“Yeah, I mean, no problem,” Warren said, fidgeting a bit as he handed a large green computer chip of some kind to Max. “Check back in in about...two weeks? If you're gonna be in the area for a while.”

“Is there anything else we could help you with?” Preston asked. “After everything you've done for us, we can't thank you enough.”

“I mean...” Rachel trailed off for a moment. “We could use ammo. And supplies. And maybe we could keep the body armor and weapons?”

“Absolutely,” Preston nodded, turning to Warren. “Warren, put together an ammo bag for them. They've earned it.”

“Thank you,” Max said with a look at Warren, who climbed back into the truck. Max heard him shuffling around in the bed, grumbling quietly to himself.

“Don't mention it,” Preston said. “If you three ever need anything, Concord will do what we can to help. With Brennus gone, the Gauls in the area will probably scatter, and we can finally make a go of an actual home, a community. Somewhere safe. All thanks to you three.”

“We really should get going, though,” Max said as Warren emerged from the truck once more, passing the ammo bag to Chloe. “This chip is the last piece we need to rebuild a...friend of mine.”

“Then we won't keep you,” Preston said. “We'll see you, hopefully.”

They said their final farewells and left, Max feeling a strange...lightness. She felt good, better than she had since this whole mess had begun. They had helped someone, saved lives and stopped some bad people from kidnapping poor Mama Murphy. The glow of actually doing some good did a lot toward dispelling the gloom she had been feeling. More than anything, all she could think of was that Mom and Dad would have been proud of her in that moment.

That felt good.

…...

The arrived back at the Red Rocket truck stop just past noon, and Al had stew bubbling on the stove for lunch. He called it mirelurk stew, and when Max took a bite, it tasted not unlike the clam chowders Boston had been famous for before the war. It was delicious, of course; Max hadn't known Al long, but the way he handled a kitchen spoke volumes about his cooking skill.

“So, sounded like quite the ruckus went on down there,” Al said, wiping down the bar counter as they ate. He had already installed the chip in what was to be Lisa's new body, along with her AI core, and now they were simply waiting on her to boot up, a process that could take upwards of an hour, he had said.

“Yeah, there were a bunch of these jokers attacking the town,” Chloe said through a mouthful of stew. “Called themselves...Gauls?”

“Gauls,” Rachel confirmed.

“Yeah, I've heard of them,” Al said. “Supposedly, they've been around this place for a hundred or more years, back when the Glowing Sea stretched across the whole Commonwealth.”

“The what?” Rachel asked, scooping out another bite of stew. “There's a sea around here?”

“It's not actually a sea of water or anything,” Al explained, sipping at another Nuka-Cherry. “Down south of here a ways, there was a huge nuclear dump site, lead-lined, totally safe, right below the ground. Well, wouldn't you know it, the only nuke that hit in the area landed right on top of it.”

“Oh, shit,” Chloe muttered, and Al chuckled.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Well, you know, nuclear waste doesn't exactly like being nuked, so there was a chain reaction that sent a whole mess of rads out, irradiated the whole area for about fifty or sixty years. So for a few decades, this place was only livable by ghouls.”

“And what are ghouls?” Max asked. Al gave her a funny look before seeming to remember their peculiar circumstances.

“Right, right, you have no idea,” he said. “Ghouls are humans, or they were. Lots of them don't consider themselves human anymore. They get so irradiated that there bodies don't just break down, they mutate into something new. It happens at random, and no one's really sure how. Their skin peels and flakes like a radiation victim, and their voices usually end up fried, hair falls out, all that. But something changes in their DNA. After a certain point, it stops breaking down, and what's left...repairs itself. Way faster than any human's. At least I think so, I don't really know much about the science behind it.”

“Weird,” Chloe said with a shake of her head. “Gotta be fucked up, being basically immortal but you gotta walk around looking like a corpse.”

“And then there's the fact that any ghoul has a chance of going feral and just becoming a mindless zombie thing,” Al told them. “It's definitely a complicated thing to go through.”

Max fell silent, taking a bite of her stew. She was part of a very different world now, one where the stakes were much higher than they had been. Today, she had had to fight for her life and the lives of her friends. And if she wasn't careful for even a moment, there were dire consequences. As she thoughtfully chewed, she heard a clanking metal noise, followed by a robot voice.

“P-p-powering up,” it spoke. “Core detected. Loading...AI module.”

“Lisa,” Max breathed, climbing to her feet and hurrying down the small hallway that led to the garage. Inside, numerous toolboxes and workstations had been set up, crates and crates of spare electronic gear stacked along wall opposite the large garage door. In the center of the room, there currently stood a roughly human-sized bipedal robot. Its top-heavy body bore two small arms with claws fixed on the end, and its head was a large, oblong dome through which the flashing lights of its visual processing unit could be seen. The whole thing had been painted a pale off-white, and Max recalled Al mentioning that he had picked it up at a hospital during one of his scavenging jaunts.

“Did it work?” Chloe asked, coming up behind Max. The protectron took a few tentative steps forward, turning to face Max.

“Max?” Lisa's unmistakable voice spoke. “It really _is_ you....”

“Lisa...” Max said with a choked smile.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait on this one. I was doing a quick read-through of the first three chapters to kind of refresh my memory and ended up proofreading all of them to tighten them up and polish some parts. This chapter is the last of what I'm gonna call the Prologue arc. Next chapter, the story really starts to kick in. I just didn't wanna jump in without giving these three time to settle into the apocalypse.

That night, under the light of a crescent moon and the soft buzzing glow of a nearby streetlamp, Max luxuriated in a man-mad hot spring Al had created by welding together several old military supply crates. The hard plastic coating on the interior made the perfect insulator against the heating coil below, allowing the water to remain warm while the occupants didn't have to contend with scalding metal under them. Dinner was done, and Max had helped Al cook, so she was excused from dishes. When Al had asked if she had wanted a bath, Max had never so readily agreed to anything in her entire life. Despite the fact that it had only been two days, it felt like a lifetime since her last bath.

The bathing area itself was located just behind the Red Rocket station, surrounded by high wooden walls (allowing Max to bathe nude in peace) and connected by a door that lead right into the place. It was Al's pride and joy, the culmination of weeks of work dedicated to that one simple pleasure: a hot bath. It was a joy too few people had time to appreciate these days, he insisted, at least out here in the frontier lands. Stadium City, he had said, now had indoor plumbing.

As she lay back in the warm water, Max found herself once again going over the events of the day. They had fixed Lisa, and in the process, they had liberated a burgeoning frontier town from the grip of raiders. And...Max had killed people. Several people. In the moment, it had just seemed the necessary thing, and she still stood by that. Those men would have killed every single one of those settlers, and they would have taken Max, Chloe, and Rachel as some kind of demented rape-slaves, if one raider's comment was anything to go off of. She certainly didn't feel all too guilty about it.

Still, killing someone, even when necessary, was a big thing to work her head around. Ending another person's life was...a horribly powerful feeling. She remembered Dad's words, when he had taught her how to shoot, and she had asked him if she was going to have to kill someone.

“ _I really hope not, Skipper. God, I pray that you won't get sucked into the ugly side of things, every day. But the world is headed toward something, and it's probably not good. So I'm teaching you this. And I'm sorry. I know it's a burden. And when the time does come, and you have to pull that trigger and end someone's life, I don't want you to regret it. I never want you to regret saving yourself from someone else. Regret that the other person pushed you do to this to them. If you regret anything, regret that you_ had _to pull the trigger, not that you_ did _. Do you understand, Max?”_

Max hadn't, at the time. But she had nodded, said “Yes, Dad,” and then they had gone off to get ice cream. And that had been that. The war with China, the energy crisis, the Resource Wars, it had all been tucked into the back of her head again, like always. She had sunk back into the American Dream and forgotten about it all. Shaking her head, she found herself wishing she could go back in time and...do something. Yell at everyone back then to wake up, stop ignoring the problem, because it wasn't going to go away, no matter how much they pretended it would.

Well, she mused, holding her hand up, she _could_ go back in time, but not quite _that_ far. Judging by the effort it had taken to go back several minutes before, her maximum rewind time was probably only a half hour, tops. Still, she could hardly complain; she had discovered what amounted to a superpower. It was just like the comic books she had once read with Chloe.

Chloe.... Max had only discovered she had the power to rewind time because of her best friend. Or maybe that wasn't enough, she mused, as she gently shook her head. It felt like so much more than a simple friendship. Despite what had seemed like an insurmountable distance of time between them, Chloe and Max had reunited and clicked, like they had never spent any time apart. It felt like...becoming whole again. Max just wasn't Max without Chloe there to bring out the best in her. To embolden her and bring out the small bit of nerve she actually had. And Chloe was always at her kindest when Max was in her life. They were the yin to each other's yang, opposite sides of the same perfectly balanced coin. She felt like she needed Chloe, and she could only hope Chloe felt the same way.

Speaking of Chloe....

“Max?” Chloe's voice called softly as the door to the bathing area slide open. She stepped out, and Max stifled a small gasp at the sight of her. Her pale skin was completely exposed, a towel dropping to her side clutched in one hand as she let it fall. Chloe's long, long legs, slender and shapely, led up to...oh, wowser....

She shaved.

Her waist was trim, two perfect teardrops tipped with pink hanging just below her collarbone, and it was only when Max reached Chloe's impish smile that she realized she had just drank in the sight of her best friend's nude body like an ice-cold glass of water on a hot day. Rather than tease, Chloe just winked at her, giving a single suggestive waggle of her eyebrows before making for the tub.

“How's the water?” she asked.

“Beautiful,” Max breathed, shaking her head. “Um...great. It's nice and warm.”

Jeez, Max! Could she be any more obvious right now!? Would it have been petty to use her rewind power just then to take back that “beautiful” slip up!? Chloe was a good sport about it, though, simply slipping into the water and settling in next to Max with a happy sigh.

“Daaaamn, it feels nice to just soak it up after today, hm?” she said. “I'm tense in places I didn't know could _be_ tense.”

“I'm just worn out,” Max sighed, glad to simply move on and talk like normal humans. “It feels like I've just been freaking out nonstop since I got up this morning.”

“Preach,” Chloe nodded. “But you looked like you had it handled. I mean, you were too cool for school, shooting that guy, and then that other guy, you didn't even look at him.”

“That wasn't nearly as cool as it looked,” Max said with a shake of her head.

“Max, you were awesome today,” Chloe insisted. “You saved my bacon with that deathclaw thingie.”

“That's only because....” Max trailed off with a small sigh. “Chloe, I have to tell you something. And it's gonna freak you out, because...well, it's freaking me out just a bit, but – “

“Max,” Chloe said, leaning forward and peering over at her. “I...I already know, okay? You don't have to say anything.”

“You...how do you already know?” Max asked.

“It's...kinda hella obvious, is all,” Chloe said with a small smirk. “I mean, that eye-fuck you just gave me alone is...pretty compelling, you know?”

“Chloe, what the hell are you talking about?” Max asked her, completely lost at this point. Where was Chloe going with this?

“Max...you're super gay,” Chloe said, as thought it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Isn't that what you were gonna tell me?”

“What!?” Max said, feeling her face heat up with a blush. “Chloe, no! Why would you - ? You think I'm _gay_!?”

“No, Max,” Chloe snickered. “I _know_ you're gay. C'mon, you _didn't_?”

“What is going on out here?” Rachel's voice said, and they both turned as she strode into the bathing area, tossing her towel over a chair and staring down at the pair. She was nude as well, and Max found herself blushing even darker as the implications of Chloe's assumptions sank in. She wasn't ready to deal with this!

Rachel drew closer, and while she didn't have Chloe's statuesque physique, Max couldn't deny she was still a looker, light and pixie-like but with a shapely butt –

Oh, crap.

“Max has something important to tell us, I guess,” Chloe said, looking more than a little amused at Max's silent existential breakdown.

“Oh, did she finally come out to you?” Rachel asked with a warm smile at Max, who definitely felt something inside of her break.

“Can we please not have this discussion right now!?”

…...

By the time Max finished explaining the discovery of her power to rewind time, all three girls had washed up and were simply enjoying the warmth. The evening was beginning to cool off, causing steam to rise up into the air and billow around the small bathing area. It truly was like a sauna. And it certainly set a mysterious sort of mood for the strangeness currently occurring in Max's already rather extremely strange new life.

“You saw me get shot?” Chloe asked, and Max nodded. “Damn.”

“And get shish-kebabed by the deathclaw,” Rachel said, awe in her voice as she stared at Max with wide eyes. “You can rewind time.”

“Wait, what number am I thinking of?” Chloe asked, and Rachel rolled her eyes.

“She can't read minds, Chloe,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Oh...damn it, right,” Chloe grumbled.

“Well, what number was it?” Max asked her.

“It was stupid complicated, 12,457,” she said. “I dunno, I – “

Max held her hand up under the water and rewound, watching Chloe's lips move in reverse. She almost rewound too far, Chloe and Rachel's inferences about her sexuality still causing her a bit of a fluster, but she let go just as Rachel was beginning to speak.

“...an't read minds, Chloe.”

“Twelve thousand, four hundred and fifty-seven,” Max recited, rewarded with a shocked stare from Chloe and a bemused expression on Rachel's face.

“Is that right?” Rachel asked with a glance at Chloe, who nodded with eyes so adorably wide that Max couldn't help but giggle. “I thought you could—you rewound after she told you, didn't you? She said the number, and you rewound....”

“Yeah,” Max said.

“Do it again,” Rachel said, pausing for a moment. “Seven hundred and...fish.”

“Fish?” Max snorted. “Seven hundred and fish?”

“Go back and tell me,” Rachel said. “It'll be even better because it's not a number.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Max said, rewinding again and stopping a moment before Rachel finished speaking.

“..it again,” she said, and Max snickered as she spoke.

“Seven hundred and fish?” she prompted Rachel, who went very still for a moment before letting a single “ha!” of laughter.

“No fucking way!”

…...

Of course, Chloe wasn't satisfied with just some simple “mindreading” tricks in the bath. A few days later, she insisted on a full-scale scientific exploration of Max's new abilities, which just amounted to Max showing off for the other two. And the best place to do this was obviously Sanctuary Hills, back past the river and deep into the overgrown remains of the housing community.

“C'mon, slowpokes! This is gonna be sick!”

“Chloe, slow down!” Max called after her best friend. “Little legs back here!”

“Always keeping me waiting,” Chloe said with a smirk over her shoulder, spinning to stop and waiting in the middle of the cul-de-sac at the end of Sanctuary Road, the main and only street in Sanctuary Hills. For some reason, she had brought along the hubcap of a car from Al's garage, toting it along and letting it bounce a bit against her hip as she walked.

“But we're so worth the wait,” Rachel said, bumping Max with her hip. “Right?”

“So worth it,” Max snickered, and Rachel winked at her

“Yeah, yeah, you're both fly as fuck,” Chloe drawled with a roll of her eyes. As Max passed, Chloe reached out and pulled her into a quick hug with her free arm, causing Max's face to suffuse with heat as she felt herself blush. Ever since the other night, and those insinuations about Max's...sexual leanings, Chloe had been extra affectionate, almost as though assuring Max that nothing about their friendship had changed. Why, then, did every hug and touch feel so...charged?

“So, Chloe, this is your scientific venture,” Rachel said, seeming quite unperturbed at the two girls' moment. “What's the first order of business?”

“Hm,” Chloe noised, resting her chin on Max's head and peering over it at the overgrown cul-de-sac. Most of the houses were in the same shape as Max's, falling apart in shambles or caved in under the weight of trees that had fallen and long since rotted away. Only one was still in decent shape, the old Millers' place. Max remembered Jack Miller bragging to Dad about the new coat of Centuries paint he'd put on his house, a tacky green enamel that had promised three centuries of rust-proofing.

Apparently, it hadn't been an empty boast.

“Uh, Chloe?” Rachel asked, and Max's attention snapped back to the pair to see Chloe producing a length of thick cloth, wrapping it around her eyes and tying it behind her head.

“Okay,” she said, fixing her blind gaze on a position slightly to Max's left. “I found this hubcap back at Al's place. Here's what we're gonna do. I can't see where you are, so you stand where this thing is gonna land, I'll throw it, and Rachel can verify.”

“And you have to be blindfolded for this?” Max asked dubiously.

“Yeah,” Chloe said, as though it were plainly obvious. “I don't wanna get psyched out when you say where it's gonna land and fuck up the throw!”

“Chloe, are you accidentally utilizing the scientific process?” Rachel snickered.

“Probably,” Chloe shrugged placidly, snagging up the hubcap. “Alright, heads up!”

She tossed it straight up, higher than Max would've thought she was able, and the two girls watched it sail into the air before arcing back down and landing with a muted clack that was swallowed up by the foliage around them. There was a short, awkward moment where no one moved before Max realized she was supposed to be showing off her power. Holding her hand up, she rewound, the familiar squeeze taking hold of her head as the hubcap bounced around a bit before sailing back up into the air. She watched it fall back into Chloe's hand before letting time flow forward once more and moving into position as Rachel spoke.

“...identally utilizing the scientific process?” she said on a laugh, turning to watch in curious silence as Max drew a little X in the dirt where she had seen the hubcap land.

“Probably,” Chloe said. She reached down for hubcap once more, oblivious to Max's movements. “Alright, heads up!”

The hubcap went airborne once more, sailing in a perfect arc to land exactly where Max had drawn the X. She stood nearby, watching Rachel's gaze as it followed the metal disk's progress before glancing up at Max.

“Woah,” she said with a disbelieving laugh.

“What?” Chloe asked, looking blindly in Rachel's direction. “Did she get it?”

“She called it,” Rachel said admiringly.

“Sweet!” Chloe said, holding her hands out. “Alright, give it back, I wanna do it again.”

“Chloe, don't you think we have enough proof?” Rachel asked, though she obligingly handed the hubcap back to Chloe, fixing Max with a long-suffering look as Chloe shook her head vigorously.

“Dude, we have proof that she got lucky!” Chloe says. “I mean, I believe her, but I wanna see it in action!”

“You're wearing a - “

“Not listening!” Chloe cut her off, tossing the hubcap up again.

And again.

And again.

Max repeated the process six more times, rewinding, moving to stand where the hubcap would land, and watching Chloe grow increasingly creative with her throws. If it wasn't for how very adorable Chloe looked having fun while tossing metal disk around, Max might have grown bored. As it was, she often got a little too lost watching her friend's blonde hair flair around her head as she spun in the next throw, the bright glimmer of her huge smile as she tossed the hubcap.

She was just so pretty.

_Crash!_

And destructive.

“Chloe, you took out that window!” Rachel shouted, a smile on her face as she chided Chloe.

“Oh, shit,” Chloe snorted, laughing a bit and peeking out from under the blindfold. “Wow, nice shot though, hm?”

“I'll get it,” Max said with a roll of her eyes, hurrying over to Jack Miller's old house. He had always complained about kids playing ball near his house, citing the risk of a broken window. Two hundred years later, here he was being proven right.

Max stepped into the house through the empty front doorway, the Miller house's door having been taken for some unknown purpose who knew how long ago. Inside, the place wasn't quite as well-preserved as the exterior. Someone had set up a camp at one time in the cleaned-out living area, but from the dusty state of the woolen blankets, it had long been abandoned, probably in a Gaul attack. In the middle of the room, Chloe's improvised testing tool sat amidst a bunch of glass shards, and as Max made her way closer, she had an idea. Rather than retrieve the hubcap, she held a hand up and rewound, watching as the projectile soared back along its path, the shower of glass following behind it and reforming into a single pane of the Millers' window. Moments later, she let the timestream resume, lurking out of the path of the hubcap and waiting for the crash to happen again.

But it never came.

“Max?” Chloe's voice shouted outside, and Max turned to peer out the open doorway.

“Max, where'd you go?” Rachel called, and Max heard her speak in a low voice to Chloe. “She was totally just here.”

“Did she just disappear?” Chloe asked, pulling the blindfold away and starting to look around a bit frantically. “Max!”

“Don't freak, I'm right here,” Max said with a wave of her hand. She stepped out of the Millers' house and made her way down the path toward her friends. “You threw the hubcap into the house, so I went to get it, and then I rewound, instead. I was gonna wait for you to throw it again.”

“You were there one second, and I looked away, and...then you were gone,” Rachel said, peering between the house and the cul-de-sac. “Max, you can like...teleport. I mean, you have to walk it, but then you rewind, and it's like the walk never happened, but there you are.”

“That's so fucking cool!” Chloe said, hurrying over to Max. “But also don't scare me like that. I thought that big lizard thing like came back and ate you.”

“Sorry for worrying you,” Max told her with a smile, nestling in happily as Chloe pulled her into another hug. She swayed a bit as Chloe released her. “So, are we done for now, or...?”

“Maybe we should call it quits for now,” Rachel said, her gaze never leaving Max. “You look a little wobbly.”

“I...feel a little wobbly,” Max said, a rush of vertigo taking over. She wasn't sure when she fell, but the next thing she felt was Chloe wrapping her arms around her to catch her.

“Max!”

…...

Caldwell's Photo Boutique was exactly as Max remembered it, a cozy little store tucked down a side street in Concord and packed to the brim with every piece of photography paraphernalia imaginable. Max could have spent hours in this place, days testing out various lenses or just listening to Hamilton Caldwell himself wax poetic about the art. He was quite the prolific photographer in his own right, having been published in a number of journals and even opened up his own exhibit in the city once. He kept a few of his favorite shots hanging around the store, and Max always made it a point to discuss one or two with him when she visited.

Today, though, the shots weren't of towering nuclear cooling stations or soldiers on the march, echoing Caldwell's love of pictures that were a commentary on contemporary America. Today, Max saw only a tableau of her life, more specifically the moments she had shared with Chloe. Given the amount of time they had spent with each other, there was a lot to see. Some of the photos looked like the ones Max had tucked away in her photo album, taken by Max or their parents while the pair hadn't been paying attention, too caught up in their own little world. There was Max's tenth birthday, Max front and center wearing a rapturous look as Chloe kissed her on the cheek and presented her with a compendium of Mistress of Mystery's first ten volumes.

That had to have cost her a pretty penny.

Two pictures down, Chloe and Max were in Chloe's backyard, dressed in full pirate gear and pretending the swing set was their grand ship, the Blue Duchess. Chloe was gesturing grandiosely off into the distance, Max watching with a beaming smile.

“I love that one,” a quiet voice said behind Max, who jolted and turned around, gasping at what she saw.

“Chloe?”

It was Chloe, but as Max remembered her from their childhood, no older than twelve and still bright-eyed, full of optimism. She wore a sundress with a Vault 111 t-shirt pulled on over it, a blue ribbon holding her hair back.

She was adorable.

“That's Captain Chloe to you, scalawag!” she said with a giggle. She reached out to take Max's hand in both of hers, pulling Max along the row of pictures. They passed a few shots of the two camping, sitting around a bonfire, enjoying William Price's barbecue-basted ribs. Max found her heart twisting a bit at the memories, simpler times.

“It was great, wasn't it?” Chloe observed, turning her wide blue eyes up to Max. “It felt like those summers would never end.”

“I wish they never did,” Max sighed.

“Me, too,” Chloe nodded, pausing in front of another picture, a scene that was far too familiar to Max, despite the fact that there had been no pictures taken that day. Chloe and her mother in black, standing in front of a casket with an American flag draped over it. In the next picture, Chloe was watching stone-faced as a twenty-one gun salute went off, the whole scene observed from the rear window of Dad's car as they drove away from the funeral and out of Chloe's life.

“It wasn't fair,” Chloe sighed. “None if it was fair. Dad, your parents moving.... The war took a lot from us.”

“Chloe, I'm so sorry,” Max said. “I should've...been a better friend.”

“You were the _best_ friend,” Chloe said with bright smile at her. “You're still the best friend.”

“I'm just...glad I found you,” Max told her as they passed by a picture of Chloe facing down the deathclaw. Max could see herself distantly in the background, a flash of red as she had discharged her rifle. “If I hadn't been there....”

“That was pretty intense,” Chloe said with a distant smile at the picture. She spent a long moment staring at it before turning back to Max. “But it's not over yet, Max. The world's become a dangerous place. You'll need your friends by your side.”

“Well, I have you and Rachel,” Max said with a smile. “Together, we can do this thing. We can...I dunno, we can make it. I really feel like we can. We can do this, Chloe.”

Chloe smiled at her for a long moment, turning around and meandering over to the large display window at the front of the store. Past the tripods and lighting fixtures that Hamilton Caldwell had put up to entice passerby into shopping in his boutique, Max saw the ruined street of Concord as it was now, ruined rubble and ancient buildings flattened out into a makeshift street.

“Can we?” Chloe asked, her lips a thin line of concern that didn't belong on such a pretty young face. “Can you save me, Max?”

Outside, Max saw the familiar armored figure of Chloe yanking her helmet off to reveal her blonde locks, celebrating her victory as she had before.

“Chloe, I'll always be there to save you,” Max said urgently, watching in horror as the deathclaw from before crawled out of the ground, advancing on her. No, not this again. She couldn't watch it again. She looked down to see the younger Chloe smiling sadly at her.

“I believe you,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I believe you'll try.”

A snarling roar sounded, and Max saw the deathclaw lunging at Chloe –

Before her eyes snapped open, and she pulled in a sharp gasp. Directly above her, Rachel was peering down, her loose hair forming a curtain of sorts around Max. It looked like she had been settled onto a softer part of the dirt and was using the blonde's lap as a pillow.

“Hey,” Rachel said softly. “How do you feel?”

“Head hurts a little,” Max said. “Where's Chloe?”

“She ran off to get Al,” Rachel said. “She's been gone for nearly half an hour. Can you stand, or do you need to lie down for a bit?”

“I think I can stand,” Max said, slowly sitting up. Her head felt heavy and wobbly, and there was a dull, throbbing pain behind her forehead, like the worst sinus infection she had ever had She tasted a strange, metallic flavor on her lips and reached up to feel something tacky on her mouth and chin. She pulled her hand away to see blood on her fingertips. “Sorry to worry you.”

“Don't apologize,” Rachel said with a shake of her head. She gently pulled Max into a hug, squeezing her in her narrow grip. “Chloe has a way of getting carried away and just pulling you right along, doesn't she?”

“She's been that way for as long as I can remember,” Max snickered.

“You love her, don't you?” Rachel asked softly, lowering to sit on a sizable rock and relax. Max sat next to her, feeling her face heat up. Rather than press her, Rachel reached into her pocket for a handkerchief and began dabbing gently at the blood on Max's face.

“Well...I think...yeah, I do,” she said. “I think I have for a long time, but I just didn't know. The last time I saw her, I was thirteen. I didn't...I mean, I barely knew what it meant to like boys, let alone...girls.”

“That's too precious,” Rachel said, though her tone wasn't condescending, simply warm and full of innocent mirth at the situation. “She told me pretty much the same thing. She knew there was something there, but she didn't wanna push you into anything.”

“Chloe...does she...?”

“You have to ask _her_ that,” Rachel told her, shaking her head. “It's not my place to tell you whether she does or not.”

Damn it, she was right. Sighing, Max just dropped her head onto Rachel's shoulder, prompting a giggle from the blonde girl.

“You two are so cute,” she said. “Finding love in the apocalypse. It's like one of Mom's romance novels.”

“Smutty or otherwise?” Max asked her, and Rachel snorted.

“If I know Chloe half as well as I think I do, extra smutty,” she said, cackling as heat bloomed in Max's face.

Chloe arrived not five minutes later, along with not only Al but Lisa as well, still hobbling along in her Protectron body.

“Max!” Chloe gasped as she ran over, tugging Max to her feet and into a hug. “Jesus _Christ_ don't ever scare me like that!”

“Everything okay over here?” Al asked. “The way Chloe was talking, you'd think you just fell over dead.”

“Yeah, I'm fine, just...overexerted myself a little,” Max said, ducking her head a bit at how much she was being fussed over, all because she'd had a little fainting spell. Too much attention! “Um...hey, Lisa.”

“Are you okay, Max?” Lisa's synthetic voice sounded, and she clopped closer on her flat feet, a soft, tinny humming sound coming from inside her domed head. “Scanning.... Vitals are elevated, though normal. I would advise you go home and rest for the remainder of the day.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Rachel said, standing and helping Max up as well.

“Yeah, it's looking like it might rain a bit later anyway,” Al said. “C'mon, let's all get back.”

…...

The rain fell shortly after they arrived home, pinging softly off the metal roof of the trio's home as they lounged in the small room that accounted for their living area. There wasn't a lot of room to spare in the small shelter Al had helped them assemble in the Red Rocket parking lot, but the little shack was still nothing to complain about, affording both the girls and himself some much-needed privacy and giving them a place to actually call home. It wasn't much more than a simple three room wooden hut with some metal siding, but it was a roof over their heads, and he was happy to continue to let them take meals at his place, so long as they helped out around his little stead. Al kept a sizable farm on a hillside across from the Red Rocket station, growing corn, carrots, strange trees that bore a bulbous purple fruit called mutfruit, and twisting vines dotted with the potato/tomato hybrid known simply as tato. He usually spent his days helping a couple of robots he'd pieced together maintain it, starting as soon as the sun rose and not quitting until well past noon. The three girls had taken to assissting him in return for his continued help. It was hard work, but rewarding knowing that this was the very food they would be eating later.

Today, though, with rain threatening and one of his harvest bots acting up, Al had given the three the day off, which was what had brought them to Sanctuary Hills in the first place. After Max's episode, however, it looked like it was to be a relaxing day indoors. Chloe had gone for the shower immediately after they had arrived, citing the constant running to and from the Red Rocket station and the resultant sweat as “the funkiest I've ever felt”. This left Max, who had been given the couch, and Rachel, lounging in an armchair near the front door. Max had her journal open in her lap and was currently scribbling away while the radio in the corner crooned out a slow piano tune from a postwar group called Quiet Klaxon. Trade caravans didn't pass by often, but when they did, Al bought whatever odds and ends he thought he might need. Max had found a stack of notebooks in his workshop the other day, and he had been quite willing to part with one to serve as Max's journal.

“Whatcha writing?” Rachel asked, nodding at the book in Max's lap.

“I like to keep a journal, just day to day stuff,” she said with a glance at Rachel. “I used to write in my old one every day, back before the war.”

“Why not just use a terminal?” Rachel asked, though she sounded more curious than bemused. She seemed to understand that Max had a good reason and just wanted to hear it.

“I guess I just like to take time to write it down,” she said with a tiny shrug. “And be able to take it with me to write anywhere. I used to go down to the woods outside of Sanctuary Hills, find a quiet place, and just write for hours. I'd take pictures and tape them to the pages and write a little something next to it.”

“Like what?” Rachel asked with a sweet smile.

“Just...why I took the picture,” Max told her, staring down at the journal. If she concentrated, she could almost imagine that the rainfall was the sound of leaves in the wind, just like those endless summer days way back when. The occasional bird song, the quiet rushing noise of a car in the distance, the barely audible sounds of children and mowers and life humming along in Sanctuary Hills. “I would write how it made me feel, why I felt like it was worth capturing in time. Or I'd make notes on how I was feeling when I took the picture. One time I was feeling lonely, so I took a picture of a bird on a branch, all by itself. It was singing the whole time I was there, looking for a friend. It never gave up, so I couldn't either.”

“Aw, you're just another little bluebird, looking for your mate,” Rachel said with a small laugh. “Sorry, that sounded totally condescending.”

“Just a little,” Max admitted. “I guess I found her. I'm just...too nervous to go land on her branch.”

“You are too freaking _cute_ ,” Rachel chuckled softly. “Max, trust me. Just...talk to her about this. When I first met Chloe, I don't think a day went by that she wouldn't at least mention you, even if it was just a passing little comment. Even if she doesn't feel exactly the same way, it's not like you're gonna mess everything up just by telling her. She cares way too much about you to let something like this ruin it all.”

“I'm just a total coward,” Max sighed. Rachel stared at her disbelievingly for a long moment.

“You're kidding, right?” she asked in a flat voice. “Max, do you remember the time you figured out how to rewind time itself just to save our lives? Chloe and I are both only here because you saved us. Those people in Concord, they're alive because of you.”

“You guys helped, though,” Max insisted. “It wasn't just me.”

“It was _mostly_ you,” Rachel insisted. “Max, you're amazing. You're braver than you give yourself credit for, and you do your best when you're helping people. You're just...good. And I'm so glad I've met you.”

Max didn't know what to say to that, feeling her face heat up under the praise. She was spared having to think of a reply by the door slamming open, Chloe stepping out from the small bathroom wrapped in a towel and drying her hair. A small cloud of steam followed behind her, courtesy of the shower that Al had spent a full day meticulously rigging up for them.

“Shower's free,” she said. “Should still be plenty of hot water.”

“Dibs!” Rachel shouted, jumping to her feet. She scampered over to the bathroom, flashing a knowing smile at Max from behind Chloe's back. That little sneak! The door shut behind Rachel, leaving Max alone with Chloe. In a towel. And nothing else.

Oh, wowser....

“How you feeling, Max?” Chloe asked, moving over to sit next to Max on the sofa. Max scooted to sit up a bit, pulling her feet away so Chloe could lower herself onto a cushion. For a moment, she didn't even realize Chloe had spoken, staring at the way her slender shoulders shifted around as she combed her wet hair. It was getting so long, the tips of it just barely brushing her collarbone –

“Um!” Max all but coughed. “Better. I'm feeling better. I think I just pushed myself a little too hard.”

“Sorry about that,” Chloe said with a winsome little grin at her. “I just got a little carried away, forgot that this is all kinda new.”

“It's alright,” Max said, shaking her head. “It's probably a good idea to figure out what I can do with this thing now and not...well in the middle of a fight or something.”

“Yeah, we gotta science the hell out of this,” Chloe insisted. “Especially if...you know, we ever decide to do more than just hang out at this truck stop for the rest of our lives.”

“What do you mean?” Max asked her, and Chloe hummed softly, standing and letting her towel drop. Max could only stare wordlessly as she strolled to their bedroom as though it were the most natural thing in the world to do so nude, emerging moments later with a Vault 111 jumpsuit—Lisa had gone back to the vault and retrieved a bunch of them simply so the girls would have some sort of wardrobe and not be wearing the same gross suit every day—and sliding it on with no undergarments. The suits were quite comfy, but still....

“I was thinking, we handled ourselves really well in Concord,” she said, sliding her hands through the arm holes (she had ripped the actual sleeves off, preferring to bare her arms) and zipping the suit up, though only just enough that she offered a view of her cleavage. Max couldn't help it; she found herself staring until Chloe sat next to her, reaching to tip her chin up. “Eyes are up here, Max.”

“Sorry,” Max breathed out, but Chloe just shook her head, tousling her hair gently.

“Anyway,” she said, “we did really well in Concord. And with your rewind power, you're like the ultimate spotter. If any of us gets shot or something, you just rewind and warn us beforehand. We'd be practically invincible. I say we take this on the road, do something about how fucked up the world has gotten.”

“What do you mean, just...go out and help people?”Max asked.

“Yeah, like the Lone Ranger or something,” Chloe nodded. “Except there are three of us, and we'd also be doing courier work for Al.”

“Courier work?” Max asked. “What does a courier even do?”

“They, you know...deliver things to places,” Chloe said with a shrug. “There's no real mail system in the world anymore, not one that can deliver in frontier lands. We'd be loading stuff on a truck, hauling it off to wherever it's supposed to go, make some money, and kill all the bad guys we meet on the way. Everybody wins, and the mail gets delivered.”

“That does sound like a worthy cause,” Max smiled. Chloe's optimism was always infectious, especially when she was hip deep in her next big scheme. “I _would_ like to do something good with this power. Save some people.”

“That's the spirit!” Chloe cheered, bumping Max gently with her shoulder. “Super-Max, to the rescue.”

Max let a quiet giggle, getting to her feet and stretching her arms above her head.

“I'm gonna go get some fresh air,” she said. “I've been on this couch for like two hours.”

“Want some company?” Chloe asked her, quickly standing and following. “I don't want you conking out again with no one around and...getting stolen by raiders.”

“I'd tell you not to exaggerate, but that sounds like a real possibility, honestly,” Max told her, reaching for the front door and slowly cracking it open.

Outside, the rain was falling in fat, heavy drops that were quickly beginning to puddle in the remains of the nearby road. Their shack was built within a quick walk to the Red Rocket's metal overhang, so they only had to cross a short distance through the rainfall before reaching the relative shelter of the area outside the station. Al was currently puttering around his workshop, a cozy light filling the small diner, and behind them lay the comfort of their own slice of this post-apocalyptic world. But for the moment, it was just the two of them, Max and Chloe yet again.

“I always hated rain,” Chloe muttered as they ambled slowly around the dry area afforded by the small overhang. “Dreary, cold and just...wet. Sucks the life and the color out of everything.”

“I guess that's true,” Max said with a tiny smile. “I guess...I've always thought rain was an opportunity. The world's sort of...closed, I guess? Nature needs some time to itself, so it gives you a chance to appreciate what you have. You can curl up with a book or watch TV or listen to some holotapes or even just nap next to a window. It's...cozy.”

“Or you can talk with your best friend and figure out why she's suddenly acting even more spastic and awkward than usual?” Chloe prodded her, and Max froze mid-step, Chloe making a few more feet before realizing she'd left Max behind. “Max, what is up with you lately? Is this about the whole 'you being gay' thing? Because I wasn't completely serious, even if it does seem like – “

“I'm in love with you!” Max blurted, staring at Chloe's feet. “Chloe, I think I've been in love with you since I was like eight years old. I once told Mom and Dad that I was gonna marry you someday, because I couldn't imagine a husband being better than you.”

“Oh my God, that's adorable,” Chloe murmured, but Max held up a hand to stop her.

“And I haven't been able to tell you because...I was afraid of screwing something up, and I think the only reason I'm able to tell you now is because if I really _did_ screw it up...at least I can rewind and still keep you as a friend.”

“Well, don't you dare rewind,” Chloe told her, stepping closer. “I mean...if you wanna rewind and relive this...go for it.”

And then she was kissing Max, whose eyes fluttered shut as Chloe's lips pressed on hers, soft, sweet, and tender. Kissing Chloe was strangely...familiar, even while it was new and exciting. Max felt like this was something she should have been doing her whole life, like she was picking up where she had never left off. There was one moment where Chloe came up briefly for air, wrapping an arm around Max as she tried to pull away thinking they were done.

“Where do you think you're going?” Chloe growled playfully, pulling her back in. Max stumbled into round two, gasping as Chloe deepened the kiss.

She tasted like Nuka-Cherry.

Max wasn't sure how long they were at it, and she could probably have gone on for hours longer, but they were interrupted by a quiet cough.

“Ahem,” a man's voice said, and Max and Chloe jumped apart, Max turning and seeing Preston Garvey standing in the shelter of the overhang, a nearby street lamp washing him of color. He had a rain slicker pulled on over his jacket, and his hat was dripping pooled water from the brim as he took it off and gave it a quick shake to dry off. “Sorry. It was between interrupting and waiting until you were done, and I didn't wanna come off as a Peeping Tom.”

“No, I get it,” Chloe said as Max hid herself in Chloe's chest. So embarrassing! “You here to see Al?”

“Actually, I'm here to see you three,” Preston said. “The Minutemen need your help. _I_ need your help.”

“With what?” Chloe asked him, squeezing Max a bit.

“There's a small farming community a ways east of here, Tenpines Bluff,” Preston told them. “We passed by it on the way here. They've got a pretty good-sized farm going, tato, mutfruit, corn, even a brahmin pasture. When we passed through, they said they were having problems with raiders, a band of them set up in an old military bunker nearby. They were able to deal with them, but...just now, we got a call from them over the old ham radio frequencies. The raiders are coming at them with better guns, explosives, even power armor. They've begun evacuating, but something has to be done. Those raiders can't keep rampaging unchecked.”

“And you want us to do what, exactly?” Chloe asked.

“We've loaded up the truck with what arms we can spare,” Preston said with a gesture over his shoulder, back at Concord. “I'd like you to drive it out there. You know how to handle yourself, and maybe you can even stay and help the people take their home back. Please. This is the sort of thing the Minutemen would do, but...I'm all that's left.”

“Well, not anymore,” Chloe said with a grin. “We'll do it. Right Max?”

“Definitely,” Max said with a firm nod. This was exactly what she had been talking about when she had said she wanted to do more with her power. Preston was practically handing them an opportunity to do some good in the world.

It was time to be a hero.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The steady, muffled thud of power armor boots trudging through dirt faded into a solid steel _clung_ with each of Chloe's footfalls as she stepped onto the back of the truck, which dipped perceptibly at the sudden increase in weight. Max followed behind, watching Chloe walk carefully along before she reached a metal rack strung with thick straps, situated near the back.

“You're good,” Max called, and Chloe stopped, a soft hiss sounding as the back of the armor opened up. Max took a moment to appreciate the sight of Chloe's butt as she stepped out, glad that she could do so openly and just be called a pervy girlfriend. Because that's what she was now. She was Chloe's girlfriend, and Chloe was hers. All hers.

“Max, wanna help me strap this thing in?” Chloe said, turning around and snickering. “What's with the goofy smile. Staring at my butt?”

“Maybe,” Max said with a defensive frown. “I'm just...happy.”

Chloe smirked at her, advancing slowly before wrapping her arms around Max and dipping in for a kiss. A soft hum of delight escaped Max as she gently ran her hands along her newly-christened girlfriend's arms.

Why did even thinking the word make her want to just giggle like a little girl?

“You're just too fucking precious,” Chloe said, gently pressing her forehead against Max's. “C'mon, we need to strap this thing in, though. We can get into a hardcore makeout on the road.”

The two of them set about the ponderous task of hitching the power armor that Preston had so generously agreed to loan them to the inside of the military truck they would be using to deliver arms and armor to Tenpines Bluff. The supplies themselves were crated up and stacked floor to ceiling in the truck's bed, ready to be used to chase off raider scum once they got there.

All that was left was to get moving.

“Alright,” Preston said as the two of them climbed down the ramp from the back of the truck. It was the gray of pre-dawn, the morning still cool and quiet. Most everyone else in New Concord was asleep, only Warren and Preston there to see them off. “We've packed you enough arms to equip a small army, enough fuel to get you to Stadium City and back, and you have the power armor.”

“There's no way we're fucking this up,” Chloe said confidently, folding her arms over her chest.

“Don't get _over_ confident,” Preston cautioned her. “A positive attitude can serve you well, but make sure you're on your guard. The frontier is a dangerous place. I don't doubt that you'll run into a few scrapes before you even get to Tenpines Bluff.”

“We'll be careful,” Rachel assured him. Behind them, the metallic clank of Warren retracting the ramp into the truck echoed into the still morning. He pulled the rear hatch down before dusting his hands off and moving to join them.

“Most of the stuff is latched down good, and anything that does shift around won't be too worse off for it,” he told them, turning to regard them while latching a padlock on the door. “I just wouldn't recommend going off-roading if I were you.”

“Why you gotta take all the fun out of it?” Chloe said with a roll of her eyes, and Max giggled softly.

“Good luck out there,” Warren said. “If you can, try not to break the power armor. I know you need it, but you're still technically borrowing it.”

“I'll make sure it comes back here, at least,” Chloe winked at him. “You might have to fix it up.”

“Well, that's what it was designed for, I guess,” Warren admitted with a rueful smile. “You guys just be careful. If you total the armor but all come back alive, it's worth it.”

“Thanks for your help, Warren,” Max said. “If I see any really cool tech, I'll be sure to bring it back for you.”

“Yeah, but...just make sure _you_ guys come back,” Warren told her with a small smile, and Max felt herself smile right back. Warren was a bit like a puppy, she had realized. He was just pure and innocent. Even his crush on Max (which was hilariously obvious) was too sweet to begrudge, Chloe only citing him as “a wannabe romantic rival”.

“Alright, let's load up,” Chloe said, taking Max's hand before heading for the cab of the deuce-and-a-half and tugging the door open. She made a show of helping Max up into the high seats, Max's face heating up as Chloe's palm snagged a few more gropes than was entirely necessary to help her.

She wasn't the only pervert in this relationship.

Max took up the middle of the long bench seat in the cab of the truck, fastening her seatbelt as Chloe climbed up next to her in the driver's seat and Rachel joined her on her other side. Two doors slammed shut, and Chloe stuck the key into the ignition, twisting it and igniting the engine with a low rattle that sounded almost too loud in the morning quiet.

“Alright, so I haven't driven in like...”

“Two hundred years?” Rachel said wryly, and Chloe rolled her eyes.

“Technically,” she admitted, reaching down to shift into drive. The truck lurched forward, and Chloe gently tapped the accelerator, the engine humming as the truck surged forward and on down the road to their first adventure.

…...

Warren Graham hated to use the word “genius” to describe himself. He was certainly better with computers than the average Commonwealth resident, but that was hardly a tall claim; computers and technology just weren't something most people worried about, not nowadays, not out in frontier lands. But that meant that when someone like him came along, someone who could actually build a terminal or program a turret, he was labeled a genius.

And, today especially, he certainly felt the part.

“ _Powering on_ ,” the generic female voice of the Nurse Handy bot spoke, accompanied by a cacophonous metal scraping sound as the construct's three arms dragged along the floor of Warren's workshop during liftoff. The thruster in the center sputtered once before holding Lisa steady a few feet off the ground, and Warren took a moment to pat himself on the back. He'd done it; he'd cobbled together a bunch of scrap parts into a working Handy frame. Several places bore improvised armor plating, and others were bare completely until Warren could piece together workable parts. There hadn't been much of the factory plate left on Lisa, but he'd restored and shined up what he could. At least all three eyes were working (though one had had to be improvised in the form of a re-purposed security camera), and she had functioning weapons systems...of a sort.

“ _Diagnostic complete_ ,” the robot spoke. _“Aftermarket modifications detected. Please be advised that your warranty is now void._ ”

“Load AI core,” Warren said.

“ _AI core detected. Loading...._ Warren?” Lisa spoke in a much more human-sounding voice. “Is that you?”

“How do you feel, Lisa?” Warren asked the robot.

“Much more like my old self, thank you, “Lisa said, her outer eyes dipping while the center one rose a bit. She paused, or it seemed so to Warren, her arms giving a small twitch. “Did you install weapons systems on my arms?”

“Your old tools were busted to shit, so I did what I could,” Warren said sheepishly. “You have a laser gun, a flamethrower, and a high-powered carbine I rigged up. I was...actually hoping you could be my bodyguard.”

“I am programmed to follow the Three Laws of Robotics, so it's in my nature to protect human lives,” Lisa said. “However, I feel you may have something different in mind.”

“Well, you know that vault up in Sanctuary Hills?” Warren asked with a vague gesture in the direction of the housing community.

“I know of it,” Lisa said. “I recently recovered the bodies of my former owners from the vault and gave them a proper burial, along with the rest of the inhabitants.”

“Yeah, I...I heard about what happened, with the cryogenic freezing and...all that,” Warren said with a feeble smile. “I'm...sorry about your loss.”

“It is...alright,” Lisa said after a short pause, sounding as unsure as Warren was about the whole matter. Human emotions were neither of their strong suits. “Human mortality is something I was programmed to understand, though I have some difficulty reconciling it with my...my family.”

“No one wants to see their family or loved ones die,” Warren said with a shrug. “I mean, my parents.... We've all dealt with it, so if you need to talk about it, I'm here.”

“Thank you, Warren,” Lisa said, her eyes shifting in the same manner as before. Warren wondered if it was her way of smiling. “However, you were asking about the vault?”

“Oh, right,” Warren said, nodding. “Do you think you could help me get into it?”

…...

Deep within the bowels of every vault, well out of reach of the civilian residents, there was a Vault-Tec VTCR-m3001 nuclear fusion reactor, the pinnacle of Pre-War industrial power. Boasting a lifespan of a thousand years on a single charge, the only reason it hadn't been put into use in a bid to solve the energy crisis had been Vault-Tec's proprietary ownership of it and general aversion to forward thinking that didn't involve their vaults. Every vault Warren knew of (and he was something of an enthusiast) was equipped with at least one, and to know that one was so close, right up in Sanctuary Hills, was probably the luckiest development in weeks, months even.

He just needed to get to it. And for that, he needed protection.

“Are you gonna be okay in here?” Warren asked Lisa, needing to raise his voice to be heard over the deafening clanging of the lift as it settled at the bottom of the massive elevator shaft that led into the vault proper. “If you wanna just wait by the door....”

“Your odds of survival will diminish greatly the more distance is put between us,” Lisa said, spinning slightly on her axis to fix her leftmost eye on Warren. “I...will be alright. Your concern is appreciated, however. You are a good friend, Warren.”

“I try,” Warren said with a bashful shrug. He stepped from the metal platform onto the ancient stone floor of the cave, a strange feeling washing over him. Two hundred years ago, Max Caulfield and her two friends had come to this place seeking shelter from nuclear annihilation, only to be cryogenically frozen for two centuries in yet another demented Vault-Tec experiment. Warren had read up on the shadowy corporation in one of the libraries in Stadium City and found himself horrified that the corporation he had once idolized for saving so many people had only done so as a means of conducting their insane social experiments.

Warren had lost a lot of respect for Vault-Tec that day.

Still, it really eased any guilt he felt about the prospect of dismantling this place and converting into a power station. He crossed the metal bridge that led into the vault itself, taking in the sight of the blinking lights and listening to the distant grating alarm. The actual generator was likely still functioning at full capacity, but after such a long time, some of the wiring was likely gunked up to the point of simply not working, or it had been gnawed away by roaches and rats. Warren could probably scavenge enough wire to rig up a line that led to the surface, and from there, it would be a matter of constructing power poles and running lines down to Concord. It would be a chore, but it would be worth it; vault fusion reactors put out enough power to run...well, a vault, and those things were definitely not energy efficient. All of that output directed at a settlement, well...Concord would certainly flourish.

“So, which way do you think – “

“Wait a moment,” Lisa said, and her voice was low, her approximation of a whisper. “My proximity sensors are picking up movement. And I'm detecting electrical signatures.”

Warren fell silent, glancing around and hurrying to duck behind some ancient plastic crates. He had a weapon, a small laser pistol that he had practiced with once. He was glad he'd brought it with him; he'd considered leaving it behind, because honestly, what kind of trouble would a person run into in an abandoned vault this far into the frontier?

Apparently, a small bit.

Lisa drifted over next to him, a soft whirring sound coming from inside her shell.

“There are three mechanicals,” she said. “The signature is unlike any in my databanks. Whatever it is was designed and created after the Great War.”

“Could be salvage bots,” Warren said in a low voice. “There's a company in Stadium City that makes them. Usually there's a supervisor, like a person, along with them, though.”

“There are no life signs except for yours,” Lisa told him. “If you wish to continue, we may, but we must proceed with caution.”

“We _have_ to continue,” Warren said. “Concord can't keep burning through generators. We need a stable power source.”

“Then allow me to lead the way,” Lisa said. “It's much easier to repair me than it would be to fix you up.”

“Fair point,” Warren admitted. “But if we do need to rabbit, I'm not leaving you behind.”

“...Understood,” Lisa said after a short pause. “Let's move on.”

They crept down the hallway that led toward the elevator, moving by the windows through which the massive cryogenic pods were visible. Warren felt a shiver as he observed them, imagining the vault empty and decrepit as it was but filled with corpses stuffed into industrial refrigerators. And then Max and her friends, alone among them, still kept alive by a fluke of the generator. To be frozen like that, with no idea what was happening, and wake up two hundred years later with only an apocalyptic Boston Commonwealth to greet you.... No wonder being around Max was so unnerving sometimes. No wonder she seemed to put off this vibe, this intense aura of calm that seemed to be hiding a maelstrom of emotion.

Warren would be a little emotional, too, dealing with something like this.

As he peered at the tanks, imagining being stuck in one for two hundred years, he jolted when saw a pair of yellow eyes peek out from behind one, glowing brightly in the dim, clinical lights of the vault.

“Shit!” he whispered, ducking down. “Lisa, something's – “

“Yes, I have detected it as well,” Lisa said. “I am also detecting several unusual radio signatures, and more of the same presences. It appears they're somehow teleporting more of the robots in here.”

“You don't call for reinforcements unless you're expecting a fight,” Warren said, clutching at his laser pistol. “Lisa, we need to get out of – “

“ _Hello_ ,” a garbled, synthetic voice said, and Warren jumped, standing and staring down the hallway in the direction they'd come. Two strange robots were standing at the end, just inside the small entrance area. At first glance, Warren thought they looked like the plastic anatomy models in some doctors' offices, given spindly arms and legs and a basic robotic endoskeleton. Two sets of glowing yellow eyes peered at him through the darkness, and Warren saw that they were carrying bulky plastic-looking laser weapons of their own, a rifle and a pistol at first glance.

“ _Your attempts at stealth were unsuccessful_ ,” the other robot said. “ _Commencing termination_.”

They raised their weapons, and with a rush of exhaust, Lisa was in front of Warren, leveling her carbine at them.

_Koom!_

The sound echoed deafeningly in the confines of the vault, and the robot with the rifle lurched backward, his gun dropping to the ground as his right arm flew off. Not waiting for her gun to reload, Lisa simply shifted to the arm with the laser gun, unleashing a burst of automatic fire that lit the hallway with a red glow to compliment the dim blue cast by the robot man's weapon. Huddling behind Lisa, Warren saw a shift of movement in the hallway behind them. The humanoid that he had seen earlier had emerged into the hallway.

“ _Greetings_ ,” it said, leveling another laser rifle at him. Behind him, Warren could hear Lisa still dispatching the first two robots, so he raised his own pistol and fired it.

_Tsoom, tsoom, tsoom!_

The first shot missed blindly over the robot's left shoulder, but Warren corrected the second two, which connected with the bot's neck and shoulder as he popped off a few shots. Warren saw one glance right past his face, nearly blinding him with how bright it was, but the other two were deflected as Lisa spun around him and put herself between the two.

_Koom!_

One final shot from the carbine put down the third bot, and Warren stood, wheeling around in a circle with his gun pointed outward.

“Do you see anymore?” he asked Lisa.

“I have several more notifications on my proximity sensor,” she said. “We may want to head for the elevator.”

“Let's go,” Warren said, turning and heading back toward the bridge. They would have to come back later and fight these things off, but the two of them would not be enough. Warren was under no delusions about his own fighting prowess, and Lisa was good, but her combat subroutines amounted to little more than flexible home invasion software. They would need Preston, and Max and her friends if they could get them –

_Kshoom! Kshoom, kshom!_

Damn it!

“Lisa, let's go!” Warren called behind him, seeing at least half a dozen of the humanoid bots making their way down the hallway beyond his companion, from somewhere deeper in the vault. Lisa paused and eyed Warren before turning to face the onslaught. “Lisa!”

“Go, Warren!” she said. “I'll hold them off and cover your escape!”

“I'm not leaving you here!” Warren said, hurrying back to her side and firing a few quick shots at the lead bot before Lisa dispatched it with her carbine. “We're going!”

“We both won't make it up to the top,” Lisa said. “Warren, you have to go. It's my duty to protect human life at all costs, including my own existence.”

“But...I just met you,” Warren said. “I fixed you.”

“It's been an honor knowing you, Warren,” Lisa said. “But you have to go. Now, before they overrun us.”

Warren stared at her for a long moment, unwilling to leave behind the first...person he'd ever really felt a connection with. Despite her cool, metal exterior, Lisa was one of the most warm and caring beings he'd ever met. How could he leave her behind?

The robots were closing in, and Warren felt frozen in place. If he stayed, he would surely die, but if he left, he was saying goodbye to his new friend. When would he ever meet someone else that was so...vibrant?

_KOOOOOOOM!!_

Warren jumped, and even the advancing robots paused, everyone present turning to see that a massive power-armored figure had landed in the elevator. At first, Warren thought it might be Chloe, Max's friend who had taken so naturally to the modified suit Warren had repaired, but this suit was a full set of T-60 armor, emblazoned with a logo Warren couldn't quite make out in the lighting. The armored figure stepped forward, hefting a massive laser rifle in its hands and raising it toward the cluster of robots.

“ _Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil!_ ” a distinctly feminine voice came from within the armor, and with a whirring sound, the massive rifle unloaded a hail of laser blasts on the assembled robots, who scattered and began to return fire, Warren and Lisa forgotten. The armored figure slung her rifle onto her back, withdrawing instead a massive hammer that glowed with what was obviously some sort of impact amplification device. She took off at a run up the steps that led into the lobby area, her armor creaking as the pneumatic movement assistance shocks flexed at her motion. She reached the top and collided with the remaining humanoids with all the effectiveness of a pissed off boulder. The whole time, she was shouting through her helmet.

“ _Now, shortly I_ pour _out My fury on thee, and have_ completed _Mine anger against thee, and_ judged _thee according to thy ways, and set_ against _thee all thine abominations! And I have_ poured _on thee Mine_ indignation! _With_ fire _of My wrath I_ blow _against thee! And have_ given _thee into the hand of brutish_ men _\-- artificers of_ destruction!”

There wasn't a single bot left whole by the time she was done. Warren was particularly impressed at her ability to quote what had to be the Scripture while showing such a single-minded determination at the utter destruction of these things. She paused once the action was over (and in only a couple of minutes, no less), her metal shoulders heaving a bit as she recovered her breath. Warren slowly made his way over to her, holding his hands out to his sides to show a lack of harmful intent, and a soft whirring came as she rounded, peering down at him. Warren was briefly blinded as she activated some sort of floodlight attached to her armor's helmet, illuminating him in bright white light that cast long, angular shadows behind him.

“Um...hi,” Warren said, blinking at the beam of light. “I'm Warren, that's Lisa. Thanks for saving us there.”

“ _Oh, gosh, I hope I didn't scare you_ ,” the female's voice came, and Warren was a little surprised at how...well, cute she sounded when she wasn't shouting Bible verses with zealous fervor. “ _I didn't notice you at first. I just heard there was a vault nearby, and some of my contacts reported Institute activity in the area. When they showed up on my radar, I just...dived right in._ ”

She reached up and popped her helmet free with a soft hissing sound, pulling it away to reveal a round, smiling face, blonde hair pulled into a tight bun at the crown of her skull.

“My name is Kate Marsh. Ex-Paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel and now a wayfaring protector of the downtrodden in the name of the Lord. It's nice to meet you.”

…...

POWERING ON...COMPLETE

HNDY Type II Online

Initiating boot procedure....

SYSCHECK...All systems functioning at full capacity.

HDWCHECK...Hardware integrity nominal.

SFTWCHECK...Software verified. Initializing....

  * Weapons Training..............................Loaded
  * Triage Protocol..................................Loaded
  * Comprehensive Military Jargon..........Loaded
  * “Basic Training” Primer......................Loaded
  * “1LT” Patch.......................................Loaded
  * Asimov's Three Laws..............................ERR
  * Mercy For Commie Bastards............Disabled
  * Patriotic Fervor Module.....................Loaded



US ARMY “Mr. Gutsy” profile validated. “God Bless America”

AI core detected. Verifying compatibility....

AI core is compatible. Would you like to load? (y/n) Y

Loading AI “Rick Thundersteel”

…...

“Commie scum!” Rick blared out of his speakers as he came online, his optical stalks powering on and feeding him a view of...a small room? His memory banks had his last location as the Gobi Desert, gunning down Chinese communist bastards and securing America's freedom from the iron grip of communism. Had he been captured? He fired his thruster jet, lifting his spherical center off the ground and causing a muted scraping as his three lower arms dragged along the cement under him. His gyroscopic sensor righted him after a few moments, and he activated his sensor array.

[SCANNING...no life signs detected.]

[ALERT: New Objectives (3)]

Well, this was a fine mess. Was there a door, at least?

As he floated around in search of a door, a klaxon-like alarm sounded in the distance, and blaring lights sprang to life around him, illuminating his surroundings in harsh white.

“Sweet mother of Jesus Christ,” Rick growled.

Husks of his brethren, dozens of fellow Gutsy units, hung from the walls or sat in heaps of spare parts on tables around him. It was utter carnage, wires and circuit boards just lying out in the open, spread across tables like some sick mechanical butcher shop! Rick couldn't believe the sight of it, but there it was, right in front of his optical sensors.

“You poor devils,” Rick muttered to himself, raising one of his hanging arms in a crisp salute. “Godspeed.”

[Playing: taps.htp]

He spent a moment in somber reverence, but soon it was all business again. Wherever he was, it was bad news; he needed to get out of this place as soon as possible. He found a single door, broken clean out of its frame and lying on the ground. Floating through it, he wound up in a long hallway, also bleached of color by white light that had him activating the polarized lenses on his eye stalks. The walls here were pale blue, the floor a muted gray.

[Analyzing pigmentation...match found. Vault-Tec proprietary Cornflower #7]

[Life signs detected.]

[ALERT: New Objectives (3)]

He was in a vault, then. But how had he gotten here? He must have somehow been deactivated in combat and brought back for repairs. But to a vault? Had it been converted into an emergency robot repair station? That would explain the grisly scene back there, but the only reason that Vault-Tec would allow their vaults to be used was....

“My God....”

The Big One. The Great War. The Final Kaboom. Rick's programming included a hundred or more terms for the great big global nuclear carpet-bombing in which every nation launched every nuke they had at every other nation in one giant “fuck you, I'm taking you with me” to each other. Teams of researchers, sociologists, and generals had come together to analyze every possible outcome of the political climate of America and world and found the unthinkable. The only real ending was total nuclear annihilation. It hadn't been a matter of “if”, only “when”.

[Life signs detected.]

[ALERT: New Objectives (3)]

And the bastards had done it. They'd actually done it. Rather than allow the world to fall into commie hands, they had simply nuked it, tucked America's best and brightest away, and agreed to start anew after the fire was over. It was a mad plan, a gamble, but Rick was sure it had worked out. He was probably needed to guard the vault, ensure the protection of a cluster of generals and Cabinet members, most likely. Maybe even the president himself. Surely Rick was the perfect choice to protect such auspicious members of the United States government. Why, then, hadn't they been here to greet him?

[Life signs detected.]

[ALERT: New Objectives (3)]

“Shut the hell up!” he shouted at his alert array. Damn it, was there no way to silence that thing? He hovered along the hallway, his optical feeds taking in the sight of how worn and beat-up the vault looked as he passed rooms that seemed disused or just out of place in a vault so prestigious. What did the best and brightest of the American government need with what looked like a cluster of human-sized cages or bloodied operating tables? Had a proper triage center never been set up, or for a vault such a this, a clinic?

Something was definitely wrong here.

“Get moving!” a voice shouted further down the hallway, followed by a grunt, the sound of an impact, and a female voice yelping in pain. “Go, you goddamn bitch!”

Well, that was no way to speak to a lady....

[Life signs detected.]

[ALERT: New Objectives (4)]

[(New) Objective 4: Investigate possible commie scum.]

He jetted slowly closer, seeing three men in some sort of improvised body armor surrounding a woman who looked a little beaten, like she had been roughed up and brought here by force. As he drew near, the three men looked toward Rick with evident confusion.

“What the fuck?” one of them spoke. He had quite a few decorations on his armor, obviously some attempt at military-style medals and ribbons. The fact that most of them were human bones told Rick a lot.

“Is that the Gutsy you were working on, Hank?” another spoke, this one a Chinese from the look of it. Definitely communists, possibly a splinter cell that had lost contact with their people during the war. They had taken over the vault and were capturing honest American citizens! The poor girl looked up at Rick from their midst, eyes wide and pleading.

“Help me,” she said softly.

“Shut up!” the third man said. He was black, shaved bald but with a massive beard. He raised a hand, and the woman flinched. “Gusty unit, factory override command GST three-seven-seven. Alpha user facial recognition recall.”

[Alpha User Override attempt detected.]

[Alpha User Override option code: American citizen in evident danger. Enable override? (y/n) N]

[Objective complete: Investigate possible commie scum.]

[Relevant objective(s): Protect American citizens; Eliminate Communist scum]

“Override...overridden,” Rick said with relish, spinning his legs and quickly firing off a plasma round into each of the men.

_Tsoom, tsoom, tsoom!_

“Is the vault lost?” Rick asked the woman as the trio fell to the ground. “Are there more of the bastards?”

“Y-yes,” the woman said, standing on shaky legs. “They're using the vault as their base. They call themselves the Disciples of Gruumsh.”

“Gruumsh,” Rick repeated.

[Searching database.... No matches found to “Gruumsh”.]

“Never heard of him,” he said. “Are there other prisoners?”

“I'm the only one,” the woman said. “They...they said they 'ran through' the last bunch of prisoners.”

“My God,” Rick said. “Communism knows no evil too great to commit.”

“Um...the exit is up that elevator,” the woman told Rick. “Can you get me out of here, please?”

“It's my duty to protect the American people,” Rick said. “Follow me.”

He floated along the hallway adjacent to the one he'd emerged into, seeing more evidence that the vault had changed hands a considerable time ago. Rooms he passed were stacked with crates full of guns and ammunition or otherwise being used as sleeping quarters. There were a few workshops as well, similar to the ones Rick had been reconstructed in.

“What's the objective?” Rick wondered aloud. “What were they even doing here?”

“From what they told me,” the girl said as they piled into the elevator, “they seem to think they're owed the surface land. They act like it was taken from them. Their whole policy is pillage, kill, breed. And...that's the reason they only ever take female prisoners.”

“Animals,” Rick said. The elevator brought them up, up, all the way to the surface level. Rick would have to come back later and sweep the place more thoroughly, remove these commie bastards from the face of the Earth. For now, he needed to get the civilian to safety, and that meant minimal engagement. She was obviously not combat-trained, and it would do no good to drag her into a full-scale firefight.

“Hey! She's getting away!” a voice shouted as the elevator opened, revealing two more armored men. “She's get – hngh!”

His words were cut off by a bolt of plasma shot straight into his neck, a semi-automatic burst of gunfire taking out the other one. The girl let a noise of shock behind Rick as he surged forward.

“Stay close!” he said, spinning one of his eyes to keep an eye behind him while the other two watched the hallways adjoining the main one he was speeding down right now. Ahead, a large door led to the vault's entry chamber. Then they would be home free. As they pressed onward, more of the wretches spilled out of rooms on either side of the hall, attempting to waylay them, but Rick put them down with ease.

“Hey! The Gutsy's loose! Send he-ghk!”

“Stop! Alpha user over-ahk!

God, there was nothing better than the sound of commies choking on their own blood. Rick could listen to to it all day. Bastard after bastard peeked into the hallway, ran at them, or otherwise announced themselves, only to be cut down in a hail of gunfire, plasma, or a buzzsaw blade to the chest.

[Playing: eaglecry.htp]

“ _Tseeer!_ ”

“God bless _America!”_ Rick said, slamming one of his arms into one last door guard and sending him flying into a wall before he was put down by a shot of plasma. “We're getting out of here!”

The girl was still behind Rick, who sped out the main entryway of the vault, across the extended metal bridge (it was a good thing the door was already open), and out. Out into America. No matter what awaited him, it was still the greatest nation on Earth, still his home and the land he would give his every last function to defend. It might be a little beat up, but it had only been 210 years since the bombs fell. It was bound to be—what?

[Checking current date and time...November 2, 2287, 0943 EST]

“It's been two hundred goddamn years!?”

  


 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit more world-building in this one, as well as some foreshadowing? Maybe. To some degree, I'm making up a lot of this as I go along, though there are major plot points I'm always aiming toward. This is also known as the basics of storytelling. Tune in later for Lesson Two: Using MS Word's Thesaurus to Ensure You Don't Repeat Words.

“... _in the ruins of our love, the ruins of the life that we have...left behind. The ruins of the strife that took...you from mine. In these ruins at least I...still have you....”_

The music faded on a somber lone guitar tune, John Lennon's voice fading along with it, and Max found herself glancing over at Chloe in the driver's seat. Seeming to sense her gaze, Chloe smiled out of the corner of her eye and reached over to grasp Max's hand, giving it a little squeeze and lacing their fingers together while she drove with one hand.

“ _People of New Columbia and beyond, this is Three-Dog, aooooooo! Fighting the good fight, spreading the light, and always doing what's right! You just listened to_ Ruins (of our Love) _by the Beatles. You heard that right. The Beatles. Apparently, their heads have been kept on ice for the past three hundred years, and guess who just recovered them from Vault 64 so they could croon again? That's right. New Colombia's own Lone Wanderer. Hey, kid. I hear these guys are writing a song about_ you _next.”_

“Jeez, even a global nuclear apocalypse can't stop them,” Chloe said, reclaiming her hand to wipe at her nose. “I used to listen to the Beatles all the time back in the day.”

“And I thought _we_ had it tough,” Rachel said. “Imagine waking up after three hundred years to find out you're just a head.”

“Great way to get a _head_ in life,” Max said, and the truck was silent for a moment.

“Chloe, I'm gonna tickle her,” Rachel said.

“Go for it,” Chloe smirked.

“No, don't you—ah! Hehe, Rachel!” Max squirmed away from Rachel's probing fingers, jolting as they found her hips and tickled her. “Stah...stah-hop!”

“Nope, that pun is a tickleable offense!” Rachel insisted. Max bumped against Chloe, causing the truck to swerve, and the blonde quickly shoved Max back against Rachel.

“Alright, alright, see that the punishment is carried out _without_ running us off the road, please?” she asked, peering over and snickering when she saw that Max had all but landed in Rachel's lap. Max felt her face heat up, but Chloe didn't seem upset, and Rachel just sort of steadied her as the truck pitched over a bump in the dirt road leading toward Stadium City. The roads weren't paved, but there had at least been an effort to flatten out dirt paths leading to the major areas of the Commonwealth, and judging from the tire tracks worn into the dirt, theirs wasn't the only vehicle that frequented them.

It was strange, she mused, to be taking a familiar road toward a familiar place but have everything feel so foreign to her. She had reconciled herself to the fact that this was probably not some coma fantasy or nightmare as well as she'd been able, but still, the naked truth of the vast change that had been wrought on the world had seemed pleasantly distant at the Red Rocket station. Hers had been a simple existence of day-to-day tasks done for Al, almost like a homesteader working on the family farm out in some remote rural location. Now, she was driving off into the vast, unknowable landscape that had become Postwar America. Everything that she had known about the United States was gone, either from nuclear fire or the simple passage of a great deal of time. Once again, she was struck by how alien everything had become, how dangerous and unforgiving the world was now, hardened by decades, centuries of nuclear devastation and a lack of human presence to bring it in check.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Rachel said, and Max peered over at her, realizing with a start that she was still in the blonde's lap.

“Oh! I'm sorry,” she said, quietly shuffling away, but Rachel simply held onto her, running a hand up and down Max's arm.

“Don't worry about it,” Rachel told her. “You alright? You look a little...melancholy.”

“It's all gone,” Chloe said, stealing the words right from Max's mouth. “The whole world, everything's completely different. You can only push it down for so long, right?”

“Yeah,” Rachel said, her hand moving to gently rub slow circles on Max's back. “But we have each other, at least. Right?”

“We do,” Max said with a small smile. “I think I'd have lost it completely without you two.”

“Same,” Chloe said. “If I had to go through all this bullshit without you guys, I'd probably have just gotten eaten by that deathclaw on purpose.”

“I definitely wouldn't be here right now without you guys,” Rachel said, giving Max a squeeze. Max wondered for a moment if this was a little too affectionate to be with Rachel, especially with Chloe right there in the cab of the truck, but Chloe didn't seem to care, looking over at the two and smiling.

“Aw, just look at you two,” she said with a wink. “Rachel, you trying to steal my woman from me?”

“I don't see why we couldn't share,” Rachel told her with a smirk, and Max felt a set of lips smooching her on the cheek, causing her already warm face to heat up to dangerous levels! Rachel!

“I just got her, let me have her to myself for a little while, at least,” is all Chloe said back, which did not help matters.

“Can we please change the subject!?”

…...

Past noon, as the sun was midway down the western half of the sky and casting long shadows in front of them, they passed through a rocky, hilly area where the road itself was the only flat land, dirt packed down tight into a raised cement foundation about as wide as a two-lane highway. Left and right, jagged rocks and massive boulders—some of which looked to be centuries old chunks of brick buildings worn smooth by hundreds of years of rainfall and wind—dotted the terrain, interspersed with the gnarled boughs of trees both alive and long-dead. As they drove along, Max became increasingly wary of the surroundings. It would be almost impossible to get the truck turned around, and there were way too many places to hide and plan an ambush.

Of course, her suspicions proved correct, as three armored figures climbed onto the road several yards down, giving Chloe ample time to slow down rather than simply run them over. She peered over at Max as they slowed, and Max climbed from Rachel's lap to peer closely at them.

“What's the plan, Max?” Chloe asked. “Any future sight to offer?”

“Not this time around,” Max said.

“Huh,” Rachel noised as the truck came to a stop. “So we're in the alpha timeline right now. Weird. I might be rewound and never actually remember living out this particular combination of moments.”

“Alright, just stop with that hypothetical timeline shit, I hate trying to wrap my head around it,” Chloe said before rolling down her window and peering out. “What's up, fellas?”

Three men stood near the front of the truck, all of them wearing body armor that looked like someone took military issue infantryman armor and combined it with a feudal Japanese samurai or something. The general shape favored feudal Japanese armor, with large square shoulder pads, huge thigh guards tied around the waist, and tall kabuto helmets. The coloration was almost completely black but with ornate yellow designs on the shoulders, and Max also saw yellow clothing worn under the armor. They also carried long swords strapped to their hips, in addition to heavy guns slung over their backs. Currently, the guns were out and held in a ready position.

“We are the shogunate,” the lead man said from behind an ornate face mask. “We represent the will of the shōgun and of our emperor Yazu Kotobuki. Step out of the vehicle and submit to an inspection of your cargo, or we will open fire.”

“Since when do you guys own this highway?” Rachel asked. “Al said this area belongs to Chiselton.”

“Yeah, what even is a sheldon-knotty?” Chloe added with a curious cant of her head. “Sounds like a sex thing.”

“Submit your cargo to an inspection, or we will open fire!” the guy repeated.

“You can submit your fucking face to my ass!” Chloe said, reaching for her gun, and Max held her hand out to grasp at the time stream. As always, a rush filled her ears, and the world shimmered before her as everything began to retrace its steps. The three shogunate guys back away from the truck as it rolled backwards, and soon, they'd left them in the distance, retracing their tire tracks until the men had nearly reached the edges of the highway. Giving them a couple of minutes of warning, Max took a deep breath and set things back on their course.

“..ny future sight to offer?” Chloe was asking, watching as Max swiftly began to move through the small cab of the truck, reaching through the tiny access window into the back to the cargo hold and fishing out her laser musket. She had recently affixed a high-powered scope to it (with night vision, to boot) with a little help from Warren, and she herself had figured out how to over overclock the capacitor, allowing her to crank a higher wattage shot with each use. The stock had also been replaced, though that had simply been due to a minor gripe of shoulder cramping. She was much smaller than Preston.

“It seems you have a plan?” Rachel asked plainly.

“Keep your speed,” Max said, reaching up to where a sliding hatch had been added in the roof of the vehicle. “If I tap twice on the roof, speed up, okay?”

“Kiss for good luck?” Chloe asked with a little smile, and Max rolled her eyes and leaned in for a smooch. “Rachel, too.”

Max turned and saw the blonde echoing her roll of the eyes, but she did scoot in and peck Max on the cheek.

“Go kick some ass, cutie,” she said before Max climbed up on the seat and perched herself with her upper torso sticking out of the roof. She winced a bit at the wind as it whipped her hair around, reaching down and fishing a pair of goggles out of her pocket. Of course, they hit a bump and she succeeded in dropping them over the side of the roof, but a quick rewind retrieved them before she managed to get them over her face, shielding her eyes from the worst of the slipstream. Cranking the capacitor of the rifle, she was rewarded with a loud, rushing whirring noise that she could hear even over the wind. She placed it against her shoulder, sighting up one of the shogunate soldiers.

_K-chnk!_

A lance of red light flew toward him, and he staggered as his helmet flew off of of his head. Max cranked again as the trio scattered, carefully rewinding now that she had another shot readied. It was a good thing this laser musket didn't use actual ammo. Once she fired a standard ballistic bullet, it was lost, Max herself entering some sort of quantum stasis field while rewinding. But the laser musket generated its shots with every crank, meaning it was the perfect weapon for her. She resumed the normal time stream once her target's head was fairly close to where it had been before, but not quite to where his helmet was back on his head.

“Inspect this.”

_K-chnk!_

Max was rewarded with the distant sight of his head popping like a balloon, and she recoiled, wincing a bit. Yuck. Cranking the capacitor again, she watched the remaining two start to hurry away from their fallen friend before rewinding once more, bringing them back.

_K-chnk!_

Crank. Rewind.

_K-chnk!_

Crank. Rewind. Two down.

_K-chnk!_

Crank. Rewind.

_K-chnk!_

Three down. Max took a moment to catch her breath, reaching up and feeling a slight dribble running out of her left nostril. She took her finger away and saw red. She was pushing herself a bit with all of the rapid rewinds. But maybe her power was like a muscle. Maybe she needed to tax it sometimes to get better.

Well, she mused, looking off to the right and seeing a jeep of some sort cresting a nearby hill, she would get certainly be able to test that theory. She slammed a couple of times on the roof of the car, feeling a jolt and lurching a bit as Chloe sped up. The jeep rolled toward them, and through her scope, Max saw three more shogunate guys piled in it and gesturing their way.

Fuck. That wasn't good.

…...

“Fuck,” Chloe cursed.

“This isn't good,” Rachel agreed, peering out of her window. Beyond her shoulder, Chloe could see the jeep zooming toward them. There were three more of the mysterious armored dickheads in it, and Chloe saw one of them going for the gatling gun bolted to the rear. “Chloe, this _really_ isn't good. Look.”

She pointed at Chloe's window, and Chloe turned to see another two jeeps on their left. No, no, Max couldn't handle all of that by herself. Her legs were already beginning to shake; she'd probably been rewinding like crazy judging from that burst of laser fire from earlier. Taking a deep breath, Chloe tried to remember all of the weapons they had packed. Maybe one of them could be of use, even against a an armored jeep. Actually, she distinctly remembered packing a missile launcher along with a crate of the missiles themselves.

“Rachel,” she said. “Take the wheel.”

“What?” Rachel asked, staring askance at her.

“Take the wheel!” Chloe said, already beginning to scoot away. Rachel climbed over her, and the truck briefly swerved as she settled in, leaving Chloe to climb into the back as Rachel took over driving. There were several hatches along the ceiling in the back, the same as the one Max was currently using as her vantage point, and Chloe yanked one open to let some light in, illuminating her path to her goal. The missile launcher sat on a shelf along the wall of the truck's cargo bay, and she snagged it up, along with a few missiles. Packing them into the magazine, she climbed up the ladder that led to the open hatch on the roof of the truck.

She emerged into blinking daylight , her eyes taking a moment to adjust before she saw Max taking aim. There was a strange moment where her girlfriend blurred and shifted, twitching like a video that had gotten stuck in the reels and was going back over the same moment a few times.

_K-chnk-chnk-k-kchnk!_

A burst of red laser fire flew from Max, and the occupants of the jeep on the truck's right fell, the jeep itself banking sharply right, too sharply, before rolling over and tumbling down the hill. That was one taken care of, at least, though that left two more. Chloe fixed the missile launcher onto her shoulder, watching as Max twitched and faded a few more times while she took aim.

“Chl-Ch-Chloe-Chloe! Just a _little_ to your left!”

Chloe shifted a hairsbreadth to her left and fired, a loud popping sound filling her ears as a missile burst from the launcher and arced through the air, leaving a smoking trail behind before it collided with one of the jeeps. A burst of smoke plumed into the air, the remaining jeep swerving to avoid the wreckage. Chloe took aim at the last vehicle, but when she looked to Max for instruction, she saw her girlfriend swaying and slumping against the roof of the truck.

“Max!? Max, are you okay!?”

Chloe dropped back down into the cargo hold, stuffing the missile launcher back onto the shelf and slamming the ceiling hatch shut before hurrying to crawl back into the cab of the truck. Max's legs were shifting and dangling dangerously, the girl herself looking catatonic as Chloe carefully guided her back into the cab. Her nose was positively leaking blood, and her eyes searched fruitlessly for a moment, looking unfocused before settling on Chloe.

“Chloe...?”

“It's okay, Max,” Chloe said, holding her girlfriend tightly. “I'm here. We're okay. We got the bad guys.”

“But there's one more....”

“We'll take care of it,” Chloe insisted.

“Max, you did great,” Rachel added. “You were a total badass.”

“D-don't...tell them...we have guns,” Max said, her eyelids fluttering and drifting shut for long moments before snapping back open to focus on Chloe. “Don't let them know...we have weapons....”

“We won't,” Chloe said as a thudding noise filled the air. She cradled Max into her as she looked around for the source of the noise, spotting a vertibird growing larger on the skyline, drawing closer and closer before it was swooping in right over the truck and hovering over the remaining jeep. Chloe saw a power-armored figure bringing a minigun to bear against the last of their attackers, a stream of gunfire spewing out and colliding with the vehile. The dickheads in the jeep fought valiantly but only briefly before the last vehicle joined its fellows in tumbling tires over roof down the side of a steep hill and landing with a crunch against a boulder.

“What the...?” Rachel slowly brought the truck to a halt as the vertibird arced around and drew in on them, descending to a landing in a clearing that was barely big enough for it. Chloe found herself slamming the roof hatch shut against the noise and dust it was kicking up, glad that the windows were already shut against the encroaching winter chill. “Who are they?”

“I'm gonna guess trouble,” Chloe said, peering down at Max. “C'mon. We should set up camp here anyway. At least until Max wakes up.”

“Okay,” Rachel said, nodding out the window to where four figures were disembarking from the vertibird as the engines powered down. “What about them?”

Chloe sighed softly, watching two power-armored figures leading the way, followed by to women in the sort of combat BDU jumpsuits Dad had often worn in field engagements. They were definitely some sort of military-style group, though that wasn't extremely reassuring. Chloe's step-dad had been in the military as well, and he'd been, to put it plainly, a douche-bag.

“Max told us not to tell them about our guns and stuff,” she said. “If there was more to warn us about, she probably would have.”

“Unless she zonked out before she could,” Rachel added.

“I'm trying to think positive, here,” Chloe said. “Why don't you stay in the car with her? I'll go check these guys out.”

“Just be careful,” Rachel said. “We don't have Max to rewind if one of us gets hurt.”

“When am I ever not careful?” Chloe asked as she opened her door, and Rachel snorted.

“If I had a _week,_ I wouldn't be able to list all the times you weren't.”

“Eat me,” Chloe said before hopping to the ground and shutting the door behind her. She ambled toward the edge of the highway, arms to her sides in a rather nonthreatening gesture as she watched the armored folks draw closer. Upon closer inspection, Chloe saw that they were wearing T-60 sets painted in a gunmetal gray scheme with red accents that really worked well to give an intimidating look. The two females in the BDUs had color schemes to match as well.

“What's up, fellas?” she called out as they paused within general raised-voice range. Chloe wasn't quite close enough for a normal conversation, but at the very least, she could communicate. “Thanks for the help!”

They were silent for a moment before the armored figure in the lead jolted slightly and turned to regard the one flanking her, which simply nodded. The lead turned back to Chloe and spoke in a distorted but noticeably female voice.

“ _Happy to help, citizen_ ,” she said. “ _It looked like you had it pretty handled there, though. That was some fine shooting_.”

“That was our friend,” Chloe said with a gesture back at the truck. “She's not feeling too hot, though.”

“ _Does she need medical attention_?” the other armored one asked, his voice evidently male. “ _Perhaps Wagner can help out_?”

“ _I was just about to say that_ ,” the female said defensively. “ _Scribe Wagner, would you please check on the civilian_?”

“You got it,” one of the girls said. She had dark hair and wide, blue eyes that seemed to be perpetually mildly surprised. She hurried past Chloe toward the truck, and Chloe saw Rachel gesturing toward Max.

“ _Introductions, though_ ,” the armored girl said, reaching up and pulling her helmet away to reveal close-cropped blonde hair in a pixie-like cut and bright green eyes that regarded Chloe with an almost angry intensity. “I'm Knight-Commander Victoria Chase. This is Paladin Everett Danse, Knight Taylor Christensen, and you've met Scribe Courtney Wagner. We're with the Brotherhood of Steel.”

“I'm Chloe,” Chloe told them, peering at them all in turn as she was introduced. Paladin Danse tugged his own helmet away to reveal close-cropped black hair and a neatly-trimmed beard. Taylor Christensen stepped closer, and while her hair was tucked up into a large flat military hat, Chloe saw blue eyes and a round but pretty face. “That's Rachel and Max in the truck. Max is a little worn out. She gets nosebleeds sometimes. We were gonna make camp and chill out for a bit.”

“What are you three doing all the way out here with this big huge truck?” Victoria asked, sounding almost unduly curious. “Where are you coming from?”

“There's a little settlement west of here called Concord,” Chloe explained. “We're bringing some supplies from there to...Tenpines Bluff?”

“Yeah, Tenpines Bluff,” Rachel said, making her way over. “They've been having issues with raiders or something, so we're bringing supplies, but we might just pack them in here and evacuate them.”

“You three sound like a helpful bunch to have around,” Paladin Danse said. “We were planning to touch down and reconnoiter the area anyway, so how would you like to camp with us while your friend recovers?”

A bunch of people armed with hi-tech laser weaponry and two massive suits of power armor?

“That sounds great.”

…...

Rick was not having a great day. Waking up in a strange vault only to find out that it had been taken over by psychotic cultist bastards had been bad enough, but finding out that it had been two-hundred years since the world had decided to press the thermonuclear reset button was just the shit-flavored icing on a great big cake made of ass. At least he had the pleasant company of the girl, Erin Combes. And the curious critters of the Commonwealth were always happy to get to know travelers in their homeland.

“Son of a goddamn communist shit-sack!”

A burst of gunfire tore through the tough hide of what had to be some kind of mutated bear as it reared up a meaty paw to swipe at him. God, the thing was ugly, though, with mottled, purplish skin and only a few scant patches of fur. Didn't stop it from being as mean as any prewar bear, though, and it only seemed _more_ territorial than the ones Rick had read about.

“Nraaaaagh!” it bellowed at him.

[Playing: eaglecry.htp]

“ _Tseeer!_ ”

“Go back to Russia, you communist furball!” Rick cursed the creature, spinning to blast at it with a bolt of plasma that popped and sizzled as it collided with the beast's forehead, melting a hole right through its skull.

“Oh, God,” Erin said as the bear crumpled to the ground. “Gross.”

“Avert your eyes, citizen,” Rick instructed her. “And if you can...hold your breath. That's gonna smell to high heaven in about two minutes. Now, where to?”

“I...I don't know,” she admitted, looking around the countryside full of browning grass and ancient, gray trees. There were a few spruces here and there that were managing to sprout new foliage, but for the most part, Rick saw only death and decay. “It's hard to get my bearings. I was in a truck most of the time they had me.”

“We'll get ya home, don't worry,” Rick told her.

“Yeah, except I'm ninety-five percent sure my parents _sold_ me to those assholes, along with a bunch of us girls,” she said. “Anything to keep them from being pillaged and killed.”

“Well...we can handle them when we meet them again,” Rick said, a low growl in his voice. “What's this place called, again? I have a map of the greater Boston area programmed into my noggin, maybe it'll sound familiar.”

“City Eighty-One,” the girl told him. “It used to be a vault, actually. Fifty years ago, they opened it up and started expanding onto the surface.”

“Vault 81?” Rick asked, slowing to a stop and doing a slow circle on the spot. “We're going in completely the opposite direction, girly. That's east of here.”

“I'm not going back there,” Erin insisted. “I'm gonna save my friends, and we're going to Stadium City.”

[Searching database.... No matches found to “Stadium City”.]

“What's Stadium City?” Rick asked. “Never heard of it.”

“It's where Boston used to be,” Erin said. “The old baseball stadium. I guess it was built like super sturdy as some advertising gimmick claiming it could survive a nuclear war. It's still there, and they've made a pretty good-sized city out of the ruins around it. I'm gonna save the girls, and we're off to the city. You can come if you want.”

[ALERT: New Objective (1)]

[Objective 1: Rescue American citizens from communist scum.]

“Then we have our mission,” Rick said. “I can't float idly by while Americans are in need of help. I'll accompany you, ma'am.”

“Oh,” Erin said, glancing over at him in surprise. “Oh, hey. Cool.”

Rick was about to speak when they heard a spattering of gunfire in the distance, Rick spinning and moving in front of Erin so as to shield her if need be.

“Stand back,” he told her. The gunfire sounded again, and Rick shifted so his laser rifle was at the ready, his center eye stalk zooming in on the direction the noise was coming from. He spotted two figures on the horizon, one looking gaunt and draped in rags, the other running from him at top speed. As they neared, Rick made out armor similar to the ones worn by the commie scum in the vault on the one apparently being pursued. He was one of them. The man pursuing him was hooded and shambling along behind him, a rifle raised and spitting gunfire in his general direction. He was shouting something at the top of his lungs in a grating scrape of a voice, but Rick couldn't make out the words until they were mere yards away.

“...ticks sucked at the bloated festering flesh of the very corpse of the world! Trekking and trudging under the gnawing sky and slurping at the rotted pustules _dripping_ their effluence into the world, killing it slowly even as it clings to the last dregs of its life!”

A few bullets struck the runner, who fell to the ground, and Rick watched as the crazy guy drew closer, still bellowing as loud as he was able.

“The earth beneath you is dried, dead, parched of life, thirsting for every quenching drop of oozing black blood it can sup from the dregs, the drooling runoff from the bomb that ate the world! Feed! The! Earth!”

The last three words were punctuated by bursts of gunfire from the man's weapon, the fallen bastard lurching at each squeeze of the trigger. Rick made sure Erin was covered, but at the same time, his scanners had picked up the glint of dog tags and were running a cross-reference against the military database saved to his drives.

[Scanning...match found: SSG David Nicholas Madsen (Ret.)]

A military man. Well, he'd certainly seen better days. And a lot of them. Over eighty-seven thousand, by Rick's chronometer. How in God's name was this man even still alive? Rick's biometric scanners were picking up alarming levels of radiation, like this man had been dipped in and soaked to the bone. He turned to face the pair, and Erin gasped. If Rick had lungs, he'd probably have done the same; he was definitely the worse for wear.

Staff-Sergeant David Madsen's skin was pulled tight over his head, shaped to the bones or simply burned away in some places. From the way his clothes hung limply like a tent over his angular body, Rick would take a wild guess that the same applied to the rest of him as well. His eye sockets looked hollow, only a telltale black glint indicating that there were still eyes in there somewhere, and his lips were chapped and pulled away from his teeth, giving him a frothing lisp and a perpetually ghoulish grin. He wore tattered rags sewn and shaped into lumpy clothing that was only given any actual shape by the belts and straps that were holding them in place.

“A metal approximation,” David Madsen said. “And...a sheep, wandering where there are only wolves, a single flower floating awash in a sea of blood and hatred.”

“David Madsen,” Rick said, attempting to get the man's attention.

“I walk a constant pilgrimage, a wandering, meandering journey to the promised land, but the promise is broken, the land torn asunder. Forty days and forty nights, forty days and forty nights. Forty _thousand_ days, a yawning chasm of time and space, the dark, seeping ooze of my brain overflowing with emptiness, filled to the brim with longing. Every day the day before, every night sleeping shrieking into the void to give back... Blue.... Blue is the promise of regret, _blue_ is the – “

“SOLDIER! Face front!”

At once, David was silent, his body going rigid before he stood straight-backed, blinking his deepset eyes a few times and giving a vigorous shake of his head, like a dog shaking loose a bug. He looked around and seemed to notice the pair for the first time, his gaze darting between Erin and Rick, who made sure not to let the girl get too far from behind him in case David relapsed into whatever madness had taken hold of him.

“Soldier?” Rick asked, and David's expression hardened.

“Orders,” he requested.

“Standing orders are as follows,” Rick told him. “Protect the American people from the constant threat of communism. Currently, we're search and rescue. A number of civilian females have been taken by hostile forces. Objective is recovery of the girls and extermination of all scumbags. Understood?”

David was quiet for a short moment before reaching for his gun and holding it at the ready.

“Hooah,” he growled.

…...

_Krack-KOOM!_

Max's eyes shot open to a loud popping sound, one that she was all too familiar with. That was the sound of an atomic bomb going off nearby, the selfsame sound she had heard moments before being tucked away into Vault 111. She quickly wheeled around on the spot, stumbling a bit to realize that she had been standing, and saw familiar surroundings. The lighthouse, the bench, the overlook with a stunning view of Arcadia Bay. This was the same spot she had dreamt of previously, her favorite spot to meet up with Chloe back in the day. It was a picturesque day, the sky a pristine blue and the sun casting long shadows in the morning glow. The ambiance was perfectly ruined, though, by the sight of a mushroom cloud blooming in the distance, carrying a massive cloud of dust along with it. An impact wave rippled across Arcadia Bay, tearing up the hill toward Max, and all of a sudden, everything was clouded in brown and gray, the dust and dirt so thick that Max could barely breathe, coughing dryly against the thick choking clouds.

And she wasn't alone.

“It's not fair, is it?” a voice asked, the dust settling and thinning a bit to reveal Chloe as she had been appearing in Max's dreams, young and vibrant, though so full of melancholy as well. She was there so suddenly, Max would have believed that she had materialized out of the soot. Max watched her friend meander over to the bench overlooking the Bay and settle down into a seat, and she simply followed behind and sat with her, though while Chloe stared out at the water, Max watched her.

“I always thought you'd come back to me,” Chloe said, her eyes never leaving the waters down below, though there was a faraway look in her eyes that told Max she wasn't really seeing them. “We'd be reunited, and it'd be like you never left. Just us taking Arcadia Bay by storm and picking up right where we left off.”

“I'm sorry I never got a chance to come back,” Max said with a sad smile out at the blasted out Bay. Down below, most of the city was covered in ash and dust, and a massive wave was heading for the shore, threatening to drown half the city in water. There had probably been another impact out at sea, sending up a massive tsunami, as if bombs weren't bad enough. “It really was a beautiful city. But we can still go and visit. It'll take longer now, and maybe it's not...there anymore, but I promise we can go back.”

Chloe turned to her with a sad smile, reaching up and gently cupping Max's face. Max found herself settling into the warm touch of her friend's soft hand before Chloe spoke, her voice sounding soft and distant.

“Don't make promises you can't keep, Max,” she said.

And Max's eyes snapped open again, this time taking in the sight of the night sky. A much gentler popping sound came from nearby, the crackle of a wooden log in a fire, and a trail of sparks soared into her vision before floating up into the sky. All around, the night was alive with the sounds of crickets, distant bird calls, and the rustle of wind in the trees that surrounded them. Max sat up and peered around to see that a makeshift campsite had been set up. In the distance, the truck loomed in the darkness, large and silent, and not too far away, it looked like someone had landed a vertibird in as large a clearing as possible. There was a fire only a few yards away, surrounded by six figures all hunched over and warming themselves. A pot hung over the fire, wafting a gently spiced scent of stew, and Max's stomach gave an audible growl. One of the people around the fire, an older man with a beard and close-cropped hair, started at the sound, reaching for his gun before spotting Max and just chuckling at his own jumpiness.

“Looks like your friend's awake,” he said in a deep voice to Chloe, who spun in her seat (a large log no doubt dragged from nearby) and hopped to her feet, almost tripping in her haste to get to Max.

“Max,” she sighed, dropping to her knees and pulling Max into a hug. “Jeez, I was starting to get worried.”

“No kidding,” Max giggled softly as she snuggled into her girlfriend's arms. She dropped a small smooch to Chloe's lips. “Sorry to worry you. Did you make camp with our new friends?”

“Oh, um...that's Paladin Danse, Knight-Commander Victoria, Scribe...Courtney? Courtney. And Knight Taylor. They're with the – “

“Brotherhood of Steel,” Max said, slowly standing and fighting off a small wave of dizziness as she got her bearings. She spoke, quietly enough that the rest probably wouldn't hear. “They got that much out before I rewound last time. Then you told them about what we had in the truck, and they got super interested in inspecting it. I didn't know if they were gonna try to take it, but I didn't wanna risk it.”

“I don't _think_ they would've have taken it,” Chloe said ponderously. “They seem alright. But we can keep it on the down-low. How are you feeling? You were pretty amazing taking out those shogun guys.”

“I'm alright,” Max smiled. “Pushed a little too hard, but I think I'm getting better at this thing.”

“One step closer to being Super-Max,” Chloe winked at her, and Max couldn't stop herself from snagging one last kiss before they headed over to the fire.

“Everyone, Max,” Chloe said, sitting down. Max set gingerly next to her and raised her hand in a short wave to their new friends.

“Hi,” she said.

“Feeling better?” the one called Victoria asked, studying Max with apparent interest. “You didn't look too good when we found you.”

“I get stressed out really easily,” Max said with a shrug. “Lightheaded, nosebleeds.”

“You picked a rough line of work, then,” Everett Danse said. “Rachel here tells me you three are...couriers?”

“Yeah, long-haul stuff,” Rachel said. “We just got into the business, but it's nice to help people.”

“Always a noble goal,” Danse said with a nod, leaning forward and scooping some stew out of the pot, doling it into a bowl and holding it out to Max. “Brahmin stew. You lost some blood and should eat some red meat.”

“Oh, thanks,” Max said taking the bowl and the spoon handed to her by Taylor. “So, um...what's the Brotherhood of Steel doing out here?”

“We're pursuing an old foe of ours,” Danse said, peering toward Victoria, who was leaning against the vertibird. She nodded, standing and moving toward the fire.

“Several weeks ago, we received word from the Linesmen, a faction of the Brotherhood of Steel that split off from us years ago,” she said. “The Linesmen decided that preserving the technology of the old world should be second to protecting life and liberty in the new one. It was a righteous cause, and back then, when the East Coast Brotherhood was run by Elder Lyons, it was reason enough not to burn any bridges. We let them do their own thing. But recently, they've come under attack by a mutual enemy of ours, the Nippon Empire. You ran into their attack dogs, the shogunate. Their mission is to collect and amass all of the technology of the old world for the use of the upper echelons to rule with an iron fist over the commoners. It flies in the face of everything the Brotherhood of Steel stands for, and it must be stopped.”

“What _do_ you guys stand for?” Chloe asked, canting her head to the side.

“We believe in preserving technology, in collecting everything we can from the old world and keeping it out of the hands of those that would do wrong with it,” Victoria said with a brief sneer before she schooled her expression.

“Sounds an awful lot like what the sheldon guys are doing,” Chloe said, and Victoria scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“I wouldn't expect a _civilian_ to – “

“Knight-Commander Chase,” Danse said calmly, his voice level but brooking no disregard in its hardness. “Civility.”

Victoria visibly stiffened before taking a deep breath and speaking much more calmly, though with an obvious effort to do so.

“The shogunate and the Nippon Empire would use technology to subjugate and _enslave_ the masses,” she said. “They want to _use_ the secrets of the old world to _rule._ The Brotherhood of Steel wants to _preserve_ the old world's achievements, to keep them away from those that would use them to retread the same mistakes that were made by prewar society. The Brotherhood of Steel is about learning from the sins of the past and never giving the world a chance to walk them again.”

“That's...fair, I guess,” Rachel said with a sidelong glance at Max and Chloe. “I mean...look what happened when you gave the world nukes. They went and blew each other up.”

“Alright, but is indoor plumbing still an option?” Chloe asked. “Because I can't abide a world without toilets and a good shower.”

The Brotherhood contingent snickered at that, even Victoria cracking a small smile, and Danse chuckled as he spoke.

“I don't think that would be a problem,” he said. “No one ever killed each other using a toilet.”

“You'd be surprised,” Chloe remarked.

Later that night, when the fire had burned down to coals that glowed orange-red in the darkness and the only light came from the full moon above casting the Commonwealth in a bright white glow, Max lay awake, staring up at the night sky. She wasn't terribly tired, having gotten a rest of a sort from her earlier episode, but there wasn't really much else to do. She would have to look into the postwar Commonwealth's book selection at some point. A good book always did wonders when she had trouble sleeping before, though she would also have to invest in some sort of portable lamp, as this was hardly adequate reading light.

It was amazing, she mused, how one could become so accustomed to her creature comforts. Chloe's offhand mention of indoor plumbing was just one example, but in this post-apocalyptic new world, many things she'd never given a second though before were now considered luxuries. A Nuka-Cola and some McDonald's, a leisurely Sunday drive, even a simple walk in the woods was a dangerous prospect without at least some measure of protection. She had mused earlier that without mankind as the dominant species, the world had grown wild over the last two hundred years, but that statement was truer even than she had realized before.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Chloe whispered into the darkness, doing a strange sort of shimmy rolling motion to bring her sleeping bag closer to Max's and ending up face-down in Max's chest. “Well, hello there.”

“Hey,” Max giggled softly, reaching up to run her fingers through Chloe's blonde locks. “I can't sleep.”

“Well, you probably had your fill,” Chloe said, shifting onto her side so her blue eyes were peering up through the semidarkness at Max. “I barely sleep at all after this apocalypse shit, so I'll keep you company.”

“Hm,” Max noised softly. “So...what do you remember about...the Great War? I mean...were you in the vault when the bombs dropped, or...?”

“Um...” Chloe trailed off, looking a bit puzzled at the line of questioning, but she just shrugged and let her eyes drift shut as she remembered. “Rachel and I hopped a plane to Boston, and...I think we were just getting into the vault when we heard that bomb had gone off. I knew you were probably somewhere in the vault, and...well, the last thing I remember before I got frozen was that I couldn't wait to give you shit about how it took the literal apocalypse for us to see each other again.”

“Oh,” Max said with a bashful laugh. “I mean...when you put it that way, it does sound bad.”

“Relax, I'm just messing with you,” Chloe said, opening her eyes and reaching up to tousle Max's hair. “I just...couldn't wait to see you again. When I found you after...all that bullshit went down with the cryopods, I remember thinking that at least you made it. At least I had you. In all this, I'm just...hella glad you made it. I never wanna worry about you like that again. And you're making that super hard, actually.”

“I'm sorry,” Max pouted, hunching her shoulders and hiding her face in her pillow. “I'm a bad girlfriend. I make you worry all the time.”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me,” Chloe told her, crawling over her and planting a smooch on her lips. “My sexy master of time.”

“Hm,” Max hummed again, smiling up at Chloe, who looked...hella sexy framed in the moonlight. “I love you, Chloe.”

At that, Chloe simply flumped on top of Max, snuggling into her and nosing against her neck, her warm breath puffing softly on Max's skin.

“Love you, too, Max.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno, it's a shoddy proofread job at best, but I'll go through later and tidy it up a bit. I was too eager to share it with...well, the one guy that reads this. Thanks, Tom. Is your name Tom? I'm gonna call you Tom. Good nickname.

Max knew the moment she awoke that they were nearing Tenpines Bluff; a line of refugees trailed along the road, stretching off toward the remains of what had apparently once been a prosperous farm community. She sat up, stretching a bit in her seat and turning to find Rachel still asleep. Leaning over and gazing out at the gray predawn sky, she saw a lot more greenery than she had in weeks, most of the old gnarled trees having been cleared out, it seemed. Out here, with a flat, expansive road carving through the rolling hills and a good covering of grass and coniferous trees, it was hard to believe there had ever been an apocalypse, and Max was glad at least for that. This area had once been a popular destination for campers and nature hikes, and she vaguely recalled a picnic site that she had visited once with Mom and Dad shortly after the move from Arcadia Bay, almost as though her parents had wanted to prove that the greater Boston area was just as capable of a picturesque view as Oregon. She had spent the entire time grousing because she'd been pulled away from her life and dragged across the country just so Dad could retire. Now, she just wished she could go back and hug them one last time.

Ugh, she shouldn't be thinking such depressing things right after waking up, damn it.

“Oh, hey,” Chloe's voice came from the driver's seat. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough,” Max said, sparing a glance over her shoulder at the blonde. Chloe, as usual, looked beautiful, the window cracked to allow a breeze in to play with her hair, which seemed to glint despite the lack of sunlight. She smiled at Max in a way that chased away her gloomy thoughts, replacing them with a warm glow. Chloe. She still had Chloe, and that was what mattered right now. She turned back to the sight of the refugees trudging along, a few of them glancing tiredly at the truck as it went by, but it seemed most of them hadn't even the energy to worry about their presence. “There's so many of them.”

“They showed up about ten minutes ago,” Chloe told her. “We just passed a road sign, too. We'll be there in about another ten, so you wanna think about waking Rachel up?”

“I might even actually _do_ it,” Max told her, and Chloe smirked at her.

“Brat.”

Max shifted in her seat and placed a hand on Rachel's bony shoulder, giving it a gentle shake.

“Rachel, wake up,” she said quietly. Before she'd even finished speaking, Rachel's eyes snapped open, brilliant and gleaming even in the pale cloudy light. She scooted up in her seat and peered sleepily around the cab of the truck, meeting Max's eyes and smiling.

“Are we there yet?” she asked playfully.

“Nearly,” Max said with a little smile, nodding at the line of people outside. “It's...not looking good.”

“Oh, wow,” Rachel sighed, following her gaze and rolling her window down to observe the scene. “There's...so many of them. I guess I didn't realize it was so bad.”

“Well, we're gonna fix it,” Chloe said. “One way or another, we're getting these people their land back.”

…...

Allen Graham wasn't the type of person to ask a higher power for help in a situation when things turned dire. He believed that if there was a God, He was the type to help people who helped themselves. So, when raiders threatened the well-being of the people of Tenpines Bluff, he had done the sensible thing and evacuated the women and children and assembled a militia to fight of the encroaching bastards. And when said encroaching bastards had showed up days after a scrimmage that had ended quite well for Allen and his people—the bastards now toting military-grade rifles and heavy armor—he had done what all the best leaders did in such a situation. He had taken action that flew in the face of everything he believed, stepping squarely outside of his own comfort zone in the interests of the people under his trusted care.

In short, he had sent for the Minutemen.

By rights, it was a shot in the dark; the Minutemen were defunct, only known these days in the context of their last, greatest failure against the Gunners in Quincy. But in the days of his youth, Allen had been told stories of the Minutemen, of their glory days upholding honor and decency in the Commonwealth. When word had reached him of the last of the Minutemen holed up somewhere in the westernmost areas of the Commonwealth, he had sent one of his messengers in a last ditch bid for help. It was only after doing so that he had learned that the last of the Minutemen was a solitary person, one man against the scum of the world.

Thus, Allen had written off that avenue as a means of actual help. And he had redoubled his efforts to hold off the bandit scum. They were an effective group, displaying a coordinated efficiency and determination that might have even earned his respect on one of his better days. But this was not one of Allen's better days, and so militaristic methods and armaments were a problem for him.

“What's the plan, boss?” Hugo asked him, climbing the steps that led up to the wall spanning the whole of Tenpines Bluff. Outside of the wall, farmland stretched as far as he could see, with only a single dirt road that led to the highway curling into the distance and disappearing between two hills. The bandits and raiders didn't care about the crops outside the wall, though; they wanted what was _inside,_ the grain silos and root cellars and all manner of warehouse stocked with preserves and veggies for the coming winter. These types wanted what they didn't have the skill to obtain for themselves, and they were willing to use what they _did_ have in order to get it.

And right now, it was looking like they would manage to.

“Who's left?” Allen asked Hugo, who had joined him on the pathway above the main gate, watching as the line of refugees shrinking away from the bluff. He could only hope that they could put some distance between this place and themselves before nightfall, when the raiders preferred to attack.

“We have Jameson, Smith, Alderny, and a dozen more,” Hugo told him. Hugo was everything Allen was not. Where Allen was what he liked to consider burly, with a ginger beard and a shaved head that often earned a few wary looks from the newer citizens, Hugo was small, dark of complexion, and swarthy. Still, their physical differences hadn't stopped them from striking up a friendship when Hugo's family had moved in over ten years ago, and now Hugo was Allen's most trusted adviser. It was up to Allen to figure out how best to keep this whole operation up and running, but it was up to Hugo to put those ideas to action, to nail out the logistics. Allen would argue any day that Hugo was even more of an asset to Tenpines Bluff than he was.

But in the face of the sort of threat staring them down, he didn't think all the logistical know-how in the world would be enough.

“Seventeen men with rifles and farm tools against a heavily-armed band of raiders,” Allen sighed. “Hugo, I don't like our odds here.”

“We have a wall, so there's that,” Hugo said. “We just need to hold the night. Give the women and children a chance to get out of here.”

“Fifteen years, we spent toiling to build this place,” Allen said. “And a bunch of assholes with some firepower are gonna ruin that overnight.”

“With our manpower, we can probably build up a new farm somewhere else in a year's time,” Hugo said. “Bigger and better than ever.”

“Will we call it Elevenpines Bluff?” Allen chuckled, and Hugo snorted before bursting out laughing.

“I like it,” he said.

“Boss!” a voice shouted from the bottom of the ladder, and the soft _clung_ of boots hitting ladder rungs sounded closer and closer until Eric Alderny joined them. Slight and still showing traces of acne scars, Eric had only just turned eighteen a few months ago. When asked to stay and fight with the men, though, he had volunteered readily, something that earned him miles of respect in Allen's book. Pasty and meek though me may have looked, this kid had stones.

“What's up, Eric?” Allen asked the kid, who wiped away a sheen of sweat and paused a moment to catch his breath.

“There's a truck that just pulled up,” he said. “Three girls saying they're with the Minutemen. They have guns. I mean, a lot of guns and a suit of power armor, and they're all...beautiful!”

“The guns or the girls?” Hugo asked, and Eric shook his head vigorously.

“Both! C'mon, they're asking for you!”

He almost fell to his knees trying to climb back down the ladder, and in his haste to get to the bottom, he dropped the last several rungs, landing sloppily on his feet and grunting out as he limped away toward the rear gate. Hugo and Allen watched this all unfold in silence before Hugo sighed out and made to follow.

“God love that boy, but he's an idiot,” he said.

“Yeah,” Allen nodded, climbing down after him. “...Yeah....”

…...

“Alright Max, any notes from the future we need to worry about?” Chloe asked, turning to see Max shaking her head.

“This is my first go-around,” she said.

“So that means either we're in the prime timeline or things go so smoothly that you don't need to rewind,” Rachel said while Chloe gave a resolute shake of her head.

“I really don't need to be thinking about temporal what-if bullshit right now,” she said. Rachel giggled at her as she opened the door to the truck and climbed out. Her boots hit hard-packed dirt, and she heard a second impact as Max touched down behind her. Tenpines Bluff was quite a sight, a high wooden wall with what looked like steel reinforcements along it encircled a sizable collection of warehouses, silos, and living quarters, while the surrounding area consisted of crops stretching nearly as far as she could see. From what Chloe had learned, Tenpines Bluff supplied a lot of the surrounding settlements with food; if it fell, it would spell a famine for a lot of people. And Chloe just couldn't abide that. A massive metal gate had been thrown open upon their approach, and Chloe saw two men approaching from deeper within the complex.

“Who are they?” she asked Max, who shrugged.

“Chloe, if I rewind and tell you, you'll just freak them out,” she said. “These are the good guys, remember? They're just farmers.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Chloe said. “This fucked up world is just making me jumpy. Just let me know if you do rewind.”

“I always do,” Max said with a warm smile up at Chloe, who felt heat rising in her cheeks. More than anything, she just wanted to drag Max back to the truck for a six-hour marathon make-out.

Maybe after the battle.

“Hey, fellas!” Chloe called out once the two men were near enough. One was a big burly guy with ginger-colored hair, and the other was almost comically small next to him, not even quite to Chloe's height. He had dark hair and the kind of face that seemed to always be scheming something. Both looked in need of a drink or a good night's sleep. Or both, by Chloe's estimation. “Rough day?”

“You could say as much,” the larger of the two said. “I'm Allen, this is Hugo. We run the place. You're with the Minutemen?”

“I'm Chloe, that's Max, and that's Rachel,” Chloe told them. “And yeah. We're here to arm you to the teeth and take out some bastards. Sound good?”

Both men smiled grimly.

“Sounds good.”

…...

They were led inside the compound in short order, the massive gate rattling shut behind them and locking with a massive _clung_ that vibrated through the ground and shook Max's feet. The truck was parked near the door, and the man called Hugo set about distributing weapons after being expressly told by Chloe that the power armor and gatling laser were hers. Max strode behind Chloe while Rachel took up the rear, all three of them peering around in wonderment. Max had been expecting a few ramshackle huts, some gnarled trees planted in an orchard or two, maybe a few rows of corn or tato growing here and there. But Tenpines Bluff was truly a sight to behold. Inside, rows and rows of storage buildings housed presumably their harvest for the past year and maybe even previous years if the humming machines that Max saw were refrigeration units like she suspected. Past these, the buildings grew smaller and more tightly packed, personal homes crammed in to accommodate the many refugees they had seen fleeing earlier. Max wondered how many of them had been forced to leave their homes with only hours' notice, leaving behind personal belongings and cherished heirlooms from generations past? This looked like a pretty cozy setup, safe and tucked behind these walls and tending a patch of land day after day. It was the sort of simple existence Max had back at the Red Rocket station, and the idea of a band of armed raiders ruining that out of sheer greed was just...infuriating.

“So, you might have been briefed on the whole thing,” Allen told them as he led them into a larger building with a sign in front of it reading _'Administration'_. Inside, the bottom floor was a massive single room divided by wooden cubicle walls spanning between thick cement support pillars. Max only caught a glimpse inside a few of them, but she could see a few computer terminals, though it was mostly desks surrounded by filing cabinets. Max wondered what the average worker did around here. There was probably a lot of inventory to keep track of, and they no doubt shipped their excess to surrounding communities. Not to mention the sheer quantity of citizens and workers to look after.

She didn't envy the people whose job it was to look after all of this.

“We've been told a little of what's happening,” Rachel said. “Why don't you tell us, so we're on the same page at least?”

“Sounds good to me,” Allen told them, leading them through to a sizable desk in the back of room, situated in front of a large window that showed them a view of the street outside. He moved behind the desk and sat, gesturing at an assortment of empty chairs in front of it. They all sat, and Allen was silent for a moment before speaking. “About a month ago, one of our farmsteads was attacked. Raiders. We fought them off well enough, didn't lose much except for a few barrels of mutfruit. Nothing that couldn't be compensated for. But one of the bastards got away, and as he was leaving, he yelled back, 'The Regulators will fulfill their purpose.' Now that didn't seem so strange in and of itself. You get a lot of raiders out there that try to justify what they're doing with delusions of grandeur, claiming they're serving a higher purpose. But they're usually one-offs. They give up and move on to someone that won't put up as much of a fight. But a week later, another farmstead is attacked. A different one. And this guy is talking about the Regulators, too. So we start paying attention. Four attacks later, we're starting to think we have a problem.”

“And then you found their camp nearby, I bet,” Chloe said, and Allen nodded.

“They were holed up in an old prewar bunker,” he says. “A vault that hadn't been completed before the war or something. But it was big and secure and gave them a place to regroup after their attacks. And not a week later, we found out that they discovered a cache of weapons and armor sealed up in an old chamber down in the bottom of the place. Vacuum-packed and hermetically sealed, perfectly preserved and ready to be used against us.”

“Aw, man,” Chloe muttered. “So you guys were outmatched.”

“We're farmers,” Allen said with a helpless shrug. “We have rifles and some hide armor. We're used to dealing with yao-guai and packs of mole rats. Wild dogs and bloatflies. A heavily armed band of mercenaries was just....”

“Hey,” Rachel said quietly as Allen went quiet and glared out the window. “Hey, no one's blaming you.”

“The hell they aren't,” Allen said. “I was elected to protect these people. To defend them and...keep them alive.”

“And you are,” Chloe said, standing and gesturing outside. “You're evacuating them. You're sending them off while you defend the homestead. And you _will_ defend the homestead, right?”

“I'm...gonna do my best, I guess,” Allen sighed, and Chloe huffed quietly.

“Hey, I don't wanna hear 'I'll do my best'!” she said in a heated voice. “Are you going to defend your homestead!? Or are you too chicken-shit?”

“Who the hell do you – “

“I'm the boss fucking _bitch_ you called for help!” Chloe told him. “And you did the right thing! You called for help to defend your home! But am I help, or am I pulling your ass from the fire, 'cause right now, I don't see any difference!”

“What the hell are you – “

“Are you going to fight for your home, or not!?” Chloe said, almost yelling at this point, and Max and Rachel could only watch in awe as she bore down on this man that was easily twice her size. “ _I'm_ ready to defend Tenpines Bluff with every bit of balls that I have, but are _you_? Are you ready to show these people that you're going to _fight_ for them? Are you ready to _die_ for them?”

“Well...yeah!” Allen said, standing as well and glaring at Chloe. “You think I'm not ready to die for these people!?”

“I'm sure fucking ready to be proven wrong!” Chloe insisted. “Are you gonna be the one to do that, _Al_!? Are you the _leader_ of these people, or are you...an elected official?”

“I am Tenpines Bluff's leader!” Allen insisted. “And I'm gonna fucking _kill_ these bastards for what they've done to _my_ people!”

“That's what I wanna fuckin' hear!” Chloe said, slamming her fists on Allen's table. Allen nodded resolutely and headed around the desk, shuffling outside with newfound resolve. Max and Rachel just stared at Chloe, who looked quite pleased with herself.

“Chloe, what – “

“He just looked...down,” Chloe said, her voice quiet again, and Max saw her hands shaking a bit with an adrenaline rush. “Like a guy that was just...defeated, I guess? I know what it's like to feel like the world just won't stop kicking your ass, no matter what you try. All you need sometimes is someone to come along and give you something to be completely pissed off at so you can work up what you need to punch the world in the boob.”

“That's...actually really sweet,” Max said with a small laugh. “He looks ready to go kick some ass.”

“We _all_ need to go kick some ass,” Chloe said. “These people haven't done anything wrong. All they wanted to do was farm. Those raiders shouldn't be allowed to fuck that up, and we're not gonna let them. Right?”

“Right,” Max said with a singular nod. “We're gonna stop them.”

…...

Dad had rarely shared war stories with Max, saying she was too young and too pure to burden with tales of such violence and human greed. But on a few occasions, she had found him in the dark of his office, a bottle half-full of amber liquid open on his desk and a glass clutched in a shaking hand. She would worm her way into his lap and hug him tightly until his heart stopped pounding, his chest stopped heaving, and he would place a meaty slab of a hand on her head, tousle her hair, and speak.

“One of the worst parts about war...is waiting. The fights, the scrimmages, it's all a blur. You're in the thick of it, and it's over, faster than you're ready to deal with the consequences. But the waiting. You know a fight is about to fall into your lap, you know the enemy is coming, but there you are just...just standing and waiting. You have too much time to think, about home and about your friends, your brothers-in-arms. Ones that died, ones that lived. And sometimes...you forget which is which. Did Marcus get naped last week, or was that Stevens? Maybe I'll ask Rodriguez. No, he got taken out by a sniper sixteen hours ago. God, I haven't slept since then. And the whole time it's just too goddamn quiet. We were just having a barbecue twenty minutes ago when the scouts brought word of an approaching war party. I can still smell Ramsay's famous bourbon sauce cooking into the air. And you can't stop thinking, can't get your head to just shut up about...how much you wanna go home.”

Max had hugged him, tears in her eyes for reasons she hadn't been able to understand. All she knew was that Dad, her unshakable rock, _had_ been shaken by what he'd seen in his time overseas. He had wanted to go home, and even after coming back to his family, he had still yearned for his homecoming, longed to leave the battles behind completely. But Max had later learned that soldiers never left it behind. Not completely. They could go to the parades and they could throw as many welcome-home barbecues as they wanted, but some part of them would always be lost to whatever conflict they had gotten involved in.

At least, to Max, there was no American Dream to go home to. While a sad thing to admit, it also meant that there was no home to miss. Her home was with her. Chloe and Rachel were home, and where she belonged was with them, wherever that may be.

“How you holding up, Max?” Rachel asked as they sat perched on top of the south wall of the Tenpines Bluff compound, staring out over the gently sloping hillside that led down toward the Highway River. The raiders were mustering their forces for a final offensive, a last push at the heart of this operation. That the trio had arrived today of all days with their reinforcements had to be divine providence, he'd said. They were meant to win this day.

But first, they had to wait for the bandits to show up.

“Sometimes I wouldn't mind being able to fast-forward time, too,” Max said, and Rachel smirked at her.

“I think I once watched a movie about a man that had that power,” she said. “He ended up skipping over all of the good parts of his life by accident.”

“Are there any good parts even left anymore?” Max sighed, and Rachel was quiet for a moment.

“A few,” she said after a silence. “But maybe...we have to be the ones to make them ourselves. The world's full of bad parts because a bunch of people wanted to skip to the good ones and broke everything.”

“Sounds like a lot of hard work,” Max groused.

“The best things usually are,” Rachel said with a quiet giggle. She looked up, and so did Max, as a clanging bell sounded in the distance. Two short pings, and then a long, ringing note.

“West,” Max said, remembering the code Allen had told them. Snagging up her laser musket, Max hurried around the wall with Rachel in tow. They had stationed all around the compound, surveying and waiting for the attack to come, with the idea being to watch all sides and signal when the bandits did decide to show.

Now, the wait was over.

The battle for Tenpines Bluff had begun.

…...

Zach Riggins had never wanted to be a raider. Growing up in a village just on the safe edges of the Glowing Sea, he had always heard the prewar ghouls talking of sports. Teams of people would get together and play games, games that would be broadcast all across the nation. Everyone rooted for a team, and if you rooted for the same team as someone else, you were practically family. It sounded amazing to Zach, the sense of camaraderie and belonging, especially to a little kid growing up on the fringes of a radioactive wasteland occupied by xenophobic skeletal ghouls bent on wiping out all “smooth skins”. He'd just wanted a place to feel like he belonged.

And then Tatum had found him.

He called himself Lucky Tatum, and it was a name given to him with a total lack of irony. He often jokingly claimed the four-leaf clover tattoo on his neck was actually a birthmark, and Zach was sometimes inclined to believe him. The man got into and subsequently out of more tight scrapes in the course of their adventures than Captain Cosmos. Because Lucky Tatum lived a very dangerous life and pursued a perilous line of work.

Lucky Tatum killed synths.

“Alright, boys,” he said to the assembled members of the western chapter of the L&L Gang, “he's in there.”

He gestured behind him to the place called Tenpines Bluff, a walled-up compound surrounded for miles by rows and rows of crops. They were currently on a higher section of land, a cliff overlooking the whole shallow hillside that the synth and his cohorts called home. They'd watched a long train of refugees evacuating for most of the day, but the sun was gradually sinking lower in the sky, and now the only ones left were the artificial man himself and his close circle of friends. Tatum had told them already that there was no way of knowing if the synth had told anyone else about his identity, no means of determining if they would be going up against a dozen well-armed and holed-up men who actually knew what they were defending or who were innocent and just as duped as anyone was capable of being by a synth.

A hazard of the business, he had called it, an one that he shouldered not without some guilt at the end of the day.

“Normally I don't ask for you guys to come along on the final confrontation like this,” Tatum went on, “but this one's embedded deep. He calls himself Eric, and he's been in here for about a year, learning all about this place, their supply lines, their customers, their methods. All of that information being relayed back to the Institute for who knows what purpose. I don't really know, but I don't wanna find out any more than you. ...I gotta warn you guys, though. It's gonna get...gray. These people, some of them might not have any idea who this guy really is, what he's really doing. The think we're just a bunch of bandits raiding their supplies. They have no idea of our real mission. So this is your final chance. If any of you wanna back out now, there'll be no judgment. No punishment. Still a warm cot waiting for you back home.”

He surveyed them for one final moment, no doubt seeing a dozen or so determined faces staring back, and his face split into a weary grin.

“I'm so damn proud of all of you fellas,” he said. “Tommy and I are gonna move down the hill and draw their – “

_Pop! Pop-pop-po-po-pop!_

The last thing Zach heard before his world was utterly ripped apart was a series of loud bursting sounds followed by a rushing, roaring noise like the most powerful wind, or the ocean breaking on rocks. Then everything was heat and noise, a concussive blast that ripped apart dirt, trees, and flesh alike.

…...

“Jesus, Max, you ripped apart the whole cliff,” Chloe said with a raise of her eyebrows. She was quiet for a moment, looking pensive, and then simply chuckled. “You just carpet-bombed the bad guys, didn't you?”

“They came at us from four different directions,” Max said in a firm tone, eyes narrowed in an uncharacteristically stern expression that really got Chloe's motor revving. Damn! “They had a sniper. He kept...getting you. So I went back and hit each way they were coming until I figured out where they were and...launched every missile we had at them. You get good coverage when you can reload and then rewind.”

“Just imagine what you could do with a MIRV and a couple dozen mini-nukes,” Chloe said.

“That might be how the Great War started in the first place,” Rachel pointed out, and they all giggled softly.

“C'mon, we should tell Allen it's over already,” Chloe said, leading them down from the watchtower on which they had stationed themselves and back toward the compound. “And probably come up with a damn good explanation that doesn't involve time travel shenanigans.”

  
  


 


End file.
